I Am Not Christine
by sci-fiwitch
Summary: A tale of romance and adventure as young Meg Giry tries to pick up the pieces of her life after the tragedy at the Opera Populaire.  Moving on from ALW's musical to the bordellos of Paris and shores of America. Kay-based, Erik/Meg. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

**Author's rants and notes:** This is an alternate ending for Erik and Meg Giry, told from Meg's POV. Poor Meg deserves a little more than the poor shoddy treatment that she got on ALW's sequel. The first part of this chapter begins from _Don Juan Triumphant_ but later the storyline branches out to AU. There will be references to Susan Kay's Phantom, ALW's musical and (gasp!) the sequel too, well, some parts that I liked. No, there are no mechanical gorillas here...

Erik and Meg are very much musical based. The characters and names of the people in this story are purely fictional.

Reviews and comments appreciated. Happy reading!

...ooo...###...ooo...###...ooo...

I must have woken up from a long dream.

_Track down this murderer…_

_He must be found!_

My heart throbbed painfully in my chest as I feared the worst had happened to my dear friend, Christine and my evening, a few hours earlier, the atmosphere at the Opera Populaire was tense with the presence of police and armed men. The dissonant chords of the Phantom's opera, _Don Juan Triumphant _added to the intensity of the situation. Everyone was waiting for something to happen after he had put all of us on the edge with the staging of his opera. Suddenly, in full view of the audience and the police, the elusive Phantom, appeared on stage in the role of Don Juan!

Maman never discussed her work with me but she often told me stories about the Opera Ghost in secret, alternating between his generosity - he was the one who got Monsieur Poligny to notice me to his terrible retribution if something was not done his way. I had thought Maman was very clever in manipulating the management into believing that a ghost lived amongst us and there was always a reasonable explanation to the accidents and the "mysterious" disappearances of the cast and crew. To me, the Opera Ghost had always been a spiritual being, a ghost, a fodder for horror stories to frighten little children and was not of flesh and blood. I even laughed and scoffed at Christine when she told me that an angel had visited her."You must be dreaming!" I had said to her.

The very idea that he was real had shaken me to the core when he had appeared in the flesh on Masquerade Night. He had lived with us for so many years, unseen yet why show himself and risk capture now?

I was standing backstage, preparing for my dance routine when he began to sing. Suddenly, I was struck by his voice, I could not speak. That voice, like a poisonous mist, seeped into my skin and gripped me as I watched him perform the role to perfection. There was such beauty and power in his every gesture, he was indeed a compelling actor.

_Past the point of no return,_

_No going back now,_

_Our passion play has now at last begun…_

As the music drifted through me, strangely irresistible and seductive, I was lulled into a dreamlike trance where only my senses prevailed. The rhythm of my heart was rapidly gathering pace, escalating as the voices of the Phantom and Christine's rose to a dizzying crescendo.

_Anywhere you go, let me go too…_

_That's all I ask of you…_

The lull was broken when I heard a loud explosion and frantic screams from the audience. I saw a first glimpse of his horrific face. How was it possible for anything to look like that – a half man, half beast? Suddenly, the spectacular chandelier that hung on the gilded ceiling began to sway violently and without warning, it crashed unto the stage in a fantastic shatter of glass and metalwork. Multiple explosions followed and the entire stage plunged into darkness as everyone jostled and shoved in their attempt to get out of there. The police tried to restore order as they promptly forgot about trapping the perpetrator. No one had seen where the Phantom had gone and no one had seen Christine either.

"He has taken her! The Phantom has taken Christine!" someone shouted.

"The opera house is on fire!"

Poor Christine! My first thoughts were for her safety. Why? Why has he taken her? There were only questions without answers. Nothing was certain anymore. I saw Maman with Christine's fiance, Raoul as they were preparing to leave.

"Where has he taken her?" Raoul asked Maman frantically.

"Come with me, M'sieur. I'll take you to him… but remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

"I'll come with you!" I blurted out but Maman turned to me and said, "No, Meg… You must stay here!"

I tried to stop the rampaging mob from following Raoul but my efforts were in vain. The tidal wave of anger and retribution could not be stopped as they pushed me out of the way and hustled me out. I stumbled out of the backstage door and saw billowing black smoke rising from the first floor.

_Maman!_

I looked frantically at the chaos around me – the sobbing ballerinas, singers and dead bodies lined in a neat row, covered in white sheets. Where was my mother? Wasn't she with us?

Staring at the flames that engulfed my home, I knew instinctively that she was still inside. "Maman!" I called out in fear as I tried to break free from the barricade that the police had erected around the burning building.

"No, Meg! You mustn't go back in there. It's too dangerous!" a fellow ballerina, Little Jammes cried as she held my hand.

"My mother is still in there!" I muttered helplessly. "I have to go back!"

But Little Jammes hugged me even tighter. "Meg, stay with me… They will find her. The police will find her and Christine."

My life, as I knew it was disappearing – my mother, my home and my friend. All that I had, had been snatched away from me. What had I done to deserve such a terrible fate? Anger welled up within me as I threw away the blanket – I would not allow it! I refused to wallow in self pity! Wiping away my tears and summoning every ounce of courage I had left within my weary body, I told my friend, "I have to go…"

Ignoring Little Jammes' pleas, I ran off to join a group of men who had just lit up torches and carried firearms into the opera house.

The mob was everywhere, destroying everything of value and taking a piece of souvenir each as they went through the opera house in search of the murderer. I barely remembered the secret entrance behind a mirror in Christine's dressing room –Maman had caught me sneaking there last year. She must have known that it was the way into the Phantom's lair. Had Maman gone there herself?

The labyrinthine passages to the underground lake were filled with angry voices. They had found found the Phantom's secret place beyond the lake. It was not what I had expected – the lavish candelabra, broken gilded mirrors, red velvet draperies torn to shreds and upturned furniture. It looked as though a terrible fight had taken place here. I waded through the shallow waters and examined this curious place. There was nothing that indicated that this Phantom was a ghost, except for an empty coffin in another room. Music manuscripts lay scattered on a broken pipe organ, detailed sketches of buildings around Paris, a library full of leather bound volumes of different languages, a laboratory with curious inventions and a wardrobe of extravagant clothing. How could anyone live down here? I wondered.

Suddenly, I noticed a something on the floor lying next to a _papier mache_ musical box. I picked it up – it was a white half-mask, the mask of the Phantom! The leather was soft, smooth and light between my fingers. I had never seen such luxurious and exquisite craftsmanship. Then I turned my attention to the music box with a figure of a monkey on top - when I wound it with the key, it began to play a familiar tune. I could not remember where I had heard it.

"Put that down!" one of the policemen shouted to me. "Everything here is to be sent to the police headquarters for further examination!"

I nodded with a weak smile and put the box down but I kept the mask. I felt inexplicably drawn to the life of this person. Who was this Phantom? What kind of life did he lead? I found myself wondering and chided myself for being distracted from my true purpose – I was looking for Maman and Christine.

My boots crunched glass as I saw the shards on the floor. The mirrors were broken and a brass candlestick lay on the ground. There was something there beyond the velvet drapes as I felt a cold draft caressing my face. Pushing aside the drapes, I found another secret tunnel. The steps must lead somewhere, I thought and the others have not discovered it yet. Taking a torch, I descended the stone stairs into the inky blackness. My footsteps echoed in the darkness as I called out uncertainly, "Is anyone there? Maman? Christine? Hello?"

There was no reply and I could hear my heart pounding loudly in my chest. I must be somewhere underneath the streets of Paris but in this darkness, I could not be certain where I was. My eyes were getting accustomed to the dark when without warning something fastened around my neck and jerked me sideways, choking my ability to scream. Pain knifed through my body as I was pushed against the wall.

_Oh God! I was going to die!_

My hands automatically clawed for the thing that held me in its murderous grip as I choked a groan. I could not speak. My lips begged for release but no sound emerged. The grip loosened a little.

"What are you doing here?" a voice hissed threateningly in the darkness.

With a panting breath, I pleaded, "Please, please don't kill me..."

There was an eerie silence for a long time as if this voice contemplated whether it truly meant to harm me. I heard a sigh of defeat as it released me and I staggered back a step. I slid down the wall, gulping air into my suffering lungs. Forcing back the tears that stung my eyes, I muttered my gratitude.

"Answer the question!" came the ominous response.

I squinted my eyes, trying to make out a figure in the dark and a pair of golden eyes gleamed, watching my every move. Fingering my tender neck, I stammered fearfully, "I'm… I'm looking for my mother and Christine."

A loud demented laugh followed turning my blood cold. "Ah, such admirable courage and devotion!" he said. "But sorely misplaced - they are not here, Meg Giry."

I let out a small gasp - He knew my name!

"You know my name," I said before I could stop myself.

"I know everyone in _my_ opera house," he muttered sarcastically.

The Phantom! Of course, how could he not know my name! He was the 'ghost' that haunted my home since we moved here.

"Please release me, Monsieur," I said to my unseen captor. "I want to go home."

"If I let you go, what guarantee can you give me that you will not lead the mob to my hideout?" hard and cold as hail, his voice boomed as he turned on the gaslight which illuminated the entire room filled with barrels of gunpowder!

Standing in front of me was the Phantom, still dressed in his Don Juan costume.

_That face! _

Up close, one side was corpse-like with no nose, a sunken cheek, deformed lips and several red spots that appeared to be scabs on his right cheek and balding head but the other was a normal face, contorted into a cruel grimace. The horror of his face did not frighten me as compared to what he intended to do. He intended to blow up the opera house, burying himself in this tomb and he did not care if he took innocent lives with him!

"It does not matter anymore. I'm ready for them!" he said with a demented laugh when he saw the fear in me, the mottled skin and disfigurement on his face turned even more hideous. "All it takes is a tiny spark and the walls of this place will come crashing down."

I could still hear the angry voices of men still searching for him, a cruel reminder of what would happen if they did find him. My situation was hopeless – there was nothing I could do to stop him.

"Innocent people will be killed!" I said, aghast. Was I hoping for some kind of compassion in his heart?

"Why should I bother? The world showed no compassion to me!" he said, his voice utterly devoid of pity. "They have destroyed everything I hold dear, taken away my whole life, my love…"

He turned away from me in contempt and I barely heard him utter the name "_Christine_" with a strangled sob. Was he in love with her? Christine Daae, my best friend?

"I'm sorry."

He turned around, his eyes boring into me. I was shocked by the intensity of his gaze, the way he stared at me that his disfigured face could not disguise. It was the look of hatred.

"I don't need your pity, girl!" he muttered angrily. "I only wish to be alone." Then taking a key that was hanging from his neck, he tossed it to me. "Take this key. Follow this path and you will find the gate that leads out to the Rue Scribe. You were never here and don't come back again."

I looked at him with wide confused eyes. One moment he was intent on taking everyone to hell with him by igniting the fuse to the powder kegs and the next, he was setting me free?

"I don't want a sacrificial lamb to die with me. I don't want you, Marguerite Giry! Tell your mother our deal is over. She does not owe me any more favors," he said harshly, answering my silent question.

I stumbled to my feet, holding the precious key to my chest. "Thank you, M'sieur."

As I turned to leave with the last source of light in the room, he suddenly said, "You have something that belongs to me…"

My body froze mid-step as I felt him approach from behind - his hand slid gently around my waist and unhooked the leather half-mask from my belt. My imagination was running riot by this singular sensuous gesture. I turned back just in time to see him put on the mask and hurried down the path as he had instructed with my sanity barely intact.

Fresh air and moonlight greeted me as I opened the gate and stepped out into the outside world once more. I found myself standing by the river Seine, about a half a mile away from the opera house. My first thoughts were to find Maman and my relief was so great that I collapsed into her arms when I saw her unharmed.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

"What did you see down there, Mademoiselle Giry?" a stern police constable questioned me.

"I... um... I saw his hiding place- the broken organ, the scattered manuscripts and upturned furniture…" I narrated what I had seen but carefully omitting the secret tunnel that I had found. The Phantom had threatened to blow up the opera house if anyone should find him. I could not live with my guilt if I would be the one that led them to their untimely deaths.

The constable eyed me closely. "Was there anything else?"

Unable to meet his gaze, I looked down and fidgeted with the folds of my gown. "No… I cannot remember very well. It… it was very dark and I got lost," I replied.

"It baffles me that not one person in the group actually saw you with them," he said grimly.

Glaring at him, I reiterated my lie. "I already told you… I got lost!"

All this was new to me – I had always been taught to tell the truth and yet, I was sitting in a small flat with Maman, protesting my innocence in front of a police constable. The constable looked unconvinced but Maman put her foot down and insisted that I had gone through a terrible ordeal and that I was not in the right frame of mind to be questioned.

"My daughter needs her rest," Maman insisted.

He closed his notebook and stood up from his chair with a sigh. "Very well, Madame. Please do not hesitate to contact me if Mademoiselle remembers anything else," he said.

"Yes, Monsieur Mifroid and good night."

Maman quickly agreed and bade him farewell. She closed the door, locked it and turned to me.

"I know when you're not telling the truth," she said quietly but before I could say anything, she asked me to lower my voice. "It is not safe to talk about it here. Come to bed."

My new home was a rundown two bedroom flat on the edge of the city amongst the very poor. We had no living relatives in Paris. It was all Maman could afford at such a short notice. The heating was faulty, there was no gas lighting and the room was chilly. We had to make do with candles for light. Maman had borrowed some clothes from the other girls so that I could change into something clean. I sank into the lumpy bed gratefully and pulled the thin blanket to my chest.

Maman tucked me in for the night, brushing my hair as she casually told me that Raoul had taken Christine away from Paris. "Poor Christine," Maman said. "She was frightened out of her wits. I hope the Vicomte is able to make her feel better."

Then she turned to me and murmured softly, "You've seen him, haven't you?"

My resolve broke as I nodded with a sob.

"So he is alive…"

Maman gathered me in her arms and began to hum softly. That tune that my mother was humming struck me as I pulled away. "That song! I knew I had heard it somewhere before," I exclaimed. "The Phantom's music box had the same tune. He said, he said that you do not owe him any more favors. What did he mean by that? Maman, did you know the Phantom before we came to the Opera Populaire?"

Maman hesitated, unsure of whether she should tell me her story. "Meg, you were very brave to face the Phantom alone… I suppose I can tell you a secret that I had been hiding all these years," she said candidly.

"What is it?"

My mother wove a mysterious tale of a young boy who had been kept by traveling gypsies. He had been known as the "Devil's Child". The young boy had killed his cruel master and escaped with my mother's help. At first, he had hid in the cellars of the ballet school that my mother studied at but he disappeared after a week. My mother did not see him again until she returned to Paris after my father died. He recognized my mother immediately and had arranged for Monsieur Poligny to hire her as a ballet instructor at the opera house.

"I was so young when I met him… the suffering he endured, the pain of humiliation and having blood on his hands at such a tender age… I cannot blame him for becoming who he is today. The world had been so unkind to him," she sighed and trembled. "He is a genius, a talented man…but he's very dangerous and unstable. I believe he killed Joseph Buquet, Comte Philippe d'Chagny and... God knows how many more..."

"Does he have a name?" I wondered aloud.

"If he did, he never used it," Maman replied.

"When will we move back to the opera house, Maman?"

Shaking her head sadly, she said, "I don't think we ever will… The fire has destroyed so much of the place that it will take a long time to restore it back to its former glory. In the meantime, we need to find some other work."

I saw my mother's worried frown. "What are we going to do?"

Maman kissed my forehead and whispered, "Don't worry your pretty head about this, Meg. I will find a way. Sleep now."

That night, I tossed and turned in my bed. Thoughts of the Phantom kept me awake – all this while, I lived in the opera house not knowing that there was a presence lurking in the shadows, his yellow eyes watching our every move on stage, in the dormitories, in our beds, listening to every word… Ugh! I shuddered involuntarily. I was suddenly reminded of Joseph Buquet's lecherous looks. Vile and amorous, Buquet couldn't wait to get under our skirts if he had the chance. Maman had caught him spying on us several times while we were changing costumes. I was glad he went away.

But the Phantom was not like Buquet. The events of these past few hours turned everything I had known upside down. I didn't know what to make of it. I should fear him – this man who derived pleasure in killing his victims. He could have killed me but why did he let me go? A momentary lapse of judgment, perhaps? Maman said I should be lucky to be alive.

Unable to get any rest, I sat up on my bed, bubbling with frustration. I reached into my bedside drawer and pulled out the key that the Phantom had given me. The key assured me that he was not a demon or an angel but a man. This man loved his music and cared about the opera as if he owned it, a man who had sacrificed everything for the love of a beautiful woman. The Phantom intrigued me. What was his story?

Holding the key to my chest, I settled back into my pillow and slowly drifted to sleep.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

The next morning, I heard my mother preparing to go out for the day.

"Where are you going, Maman?" I asked anxiously.

She told me that she had some errands to run and some ballet schools to visit. There could be a position for her as a ballet instructor. I was given strict orders not to leave the apartment and especially not to wander the ill-lit streets alone at night. "There is bread and soup on the stove. Have something to eat while I'm gone," she said as she closed the door.

As I stayed home recuperating from my 'ordeal', my thoughts often strayed to the mysterious Phantom. Was he still alive? Was he in danger? The police were still trying to figure out the confusing passages under the opera house and sooner or later, they would find him. There had been no news of any explosion or destruction of the Opera House, so I guessed that he did not carry out his threat.

Maman brought back clothes, food and fuel, enough to keep us warm and comfortable. For three days, the confines of the dingy flat became too stifling that I ventured out in the day. I walked through the squalid streets and made my way to the bank of the Seine. The sweet and delicious smells wafting from nearby bakeries drew me into one of the confectionery shops. I picked up a few loaves of bread and proceeded to pay for them at the counter. As I stuck my hand into my purse, my fingers touched a familiar key– unconsciously, I had stuffed the Phantom's key into my purse. I grinned to myself, it had become my lucky charm. Suddenly, I realized that I was near the Rue Scribe. Would I dare to go back and defy his warning?

Maybe he had gone, disappeared from Paris and the Opera House. There was nothing left down there but ruins. Then, there would be no real danger in going back there, I thought. My determined steps brought me back to where I had emerged from his lair – it was already late afternoon and my sense of unease increased steadily. The Phantom had warned me not to return yet here I was, standing in front of the iron gates once more. I took out the key and opened the lock with a loud clanging sound. Part of me wanted him to be there but the other wanted him gone.

"Mademoiselle, I would not go in there if I were you," a heavily accented voice said to me.

I whirled around in shock and saw an elderly Oriental dressed in immaculate brown coat standing behind me. "Who… who are you?" I stammered.

"Forgive my manners, my name is Nadir Shah," the Oriental replied, bowing slightly. "I'm an acquaintance of the one you call the _Opera Ghost_."

The Phantom had a friend! My surprise was so great that I was struck dumb.

"My name is Marguerite Giry… Meg for short," I said finally.

"Ah, Madame Giry's daughter… You are one of the dancers. I should have recognized you earlier," said Nadir and seeing my gaping stare, he laughed. "I'm an avid follower of the opera."

"Oh, thank you."

Then his expression turned serious. "I noticed a certain police constable tailing you… You should be more careful."

I grew scared as I whispered back, "Is he still here? Does he know you are here too?"

Nadir shook his head. "I think the constable has gone but Mademoiselle, why are you here?"

Wringing my hands nervously, I began to pace back and forth. "I'm… I'm not really sure of the reason why I'm here. I… I guess I wanted to see if _he _was still here…"

"I have been wondering that myself but Erik…"

My eyes shot up. "Erik? Is that his real name?"

Nadir muttered, "That was his name when I met him in Persia. Erik has this place rigged full of traps – he told me himself."

My heart gave a sickening lurch of fear. "I… I didn't know."

"Well then, two pairs of eyes are better than one," said Nadir resignedly as he lit up a torch and started down the stone stairs. I followed him without question – he knew more of Erik the Phantom than anyone else. We descended into the lair silently, the only means of entry that I knew and I pointed out to Monsieur Nadir the room full of gunpowder. It was the place I had seen him last. But Erik was not there. The traps that Monsieur Nadir had spoken about did not spring upon us as I had feared but my fear turned to anxiety as both of us could not find him in any of the adjoining rooms. Then I noticed a shadow in the water and gasped, "Look!"

A body was floating in the lake faced down. Nadir quickly jumped into the icy water and pulled the body to the lake's edge. He turned the body around and let out a cry of relief – it was Erik. The Oriental checked him for vital signs and started to pump his lungs in an attempt to resuscitate him. Water and mud regurgitated from Erik's deformed mouth.

I hovered uncertainly behind Nadir - were we too late to save him?

Unable to hold back any longer, I burst out, "Is he dead?"

"He is still alive but his pulse is weak." Nadir turned to me and said with quiet urgency, "Help me get him to bed!"

Both of us half carried and dragged Erik's innate body to a small cot in one of the rooms. There were rats scrambling everywhere as I was appalled at the pathetic sight of his existence. No human could possibly live in such squalor!

"There should be some dry clothes in the drawer," Nadir instructed.

Immediately, I searched the cabinets for clean linen and came back with a shirt, trousers and blankets. It was all I could find after the mob had torn this place apart. I stopped in my tracks when I saw Nadir taking off Erik's wet clothing and boots. My limited experience of caring for the infirmed told me that Nadir was preventing pneumonia from infecting Erik's lungs. Despite my conscience telling me not to look, I could not resist the temptation to stare out of curiosity.

"Go home, mademoiselle…Your mother will be worried about you. There is nothing more you can do for him. I will take care of him," said Nadir as he took the clean linen from me. I was suddenly reminded that we had been down in the tunnels for many hours.

"I bid you, _bon nuit_. Monsieur," I said, thankful that the dim lights hid the flush on my cheeks.

My heart was like lead in my breast as I made my way back to the apartment that Maman and I shared. The excitement of the day had taken a strange twist – I found out that the Phantom's name was Erik and he had a friend! Then, I saw a woman hail a passing gentleman.

"Monsieur… I will take you to my room in exchange for food."

At once, I knew she was a prostitute soliciting for clients. These fair creatures of the night, dressed in outrageous gowns, had begun to prowl the streets as the sun set. The man paused and spoke, but I could not hear his reply as they slipped into an alley together. As I passed by, I caught a glimpse of the man's larger bulk heave, panting, against the woman who, flattened against the wall with her skirts hitched up to her thighs, moaned loudly. I blushed hotly as the prostitute turned her gaze to me. Vaguely, I knew what happened between a man and a woman, the gossips in the opera house were enough to fuel the imagination. I hurried up the stairs and suddenly, the door to my flat flung open. It was Maman.

"Where have you been, Marguerite Alys Giry?" she demanded angrily as she dragged me inside and shut the door.

I knew I was in trouble the minute she used my full name. "I'm sorry, Maman… I lost track of time."

Maman circled me suspiciously and lifted up my skirts. "You have mud on your shoes! Did you go back there? Did you?"

"Yes, Maman but Erik is sick…"

"Erik?" Maman burst out incredulously. "Is that what you call him now? I will not allow you to see that insane man again, do you hear me?"

"But Maman…"

"Not one more word, child! He is a very dangerous man, make no mistake… he has taken lives without remorse and don't think that he will spare your life!"

That was the end of our argument. She forbade me to see Erik again.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

TBC. Please leave a review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

The next morning, I followed Maman to Sunday worship. When we arrived at La Madeleine, I dutifully covered my head with a lace veil and went into the church. Soon, other people started filling the wooden pews. Reverently, they knelt down to pray as the priest began the Mass. But my thoughts were not about God or about faith. All I could do was think of Erik, his wretched body lying innate somewhere in the bowels of the opera house.

I fell to my knees, offering up a prayer for his soul. _"Please, God, please don't let him die…let him live…"_

After Mass, I stole away towards Rue Scribe again when my mother had gone out to visit an acquaintance. I needed to know if Erik was going to be all right. I was more careful this time, making sure that no one was following me. Running down the stone stairs to Erik's lair, I found myself face to face with Monsieur Nadir.

"_Bon jour_, Mademoiselle Giry," he said calmly but his red eyes and hunched back showed signs of weariness. He must have been up all night caring for Erik.

"_Bon jour_, Monsieur… How is he?" I asked, almost out of breath from running all the way across the town.

"Perhaps you would like to see him," he said with great civility as he waved one hand in the direction of a closed door. "He's still asleep."

Nodding my head slowly, I walked to the door and opened it. The sight of Erik on the bed frightened me beyond words - he was so still, a skeletal figure of a corpse! The aura of death lingered like a heavy cloud in the room.

"I gave him some laudanum to help him sleep but I fear the fever will kill him," Nadir said quietly. Erik's haunting eyes were closed and he seemed quite harmless. So I plucked up courage and placed the palm of my hand carefully on Erik's forehead. I was struck by the heat radiating off him. It was the first time I dared to touch his face.

Tears came to my eyes. "Do you really think he will die?"

Nadir gave a non-committal shrug. "I wish I could take him away from this cold and damp place and send him straight to the hospital but I cannot. The police are still searching for him and one word from the hospital would mean the end for him. Instead I'm stuck with a hard choice. I have to run an errand and get the medication to treat his fever, however, I need your assistance, mademoiselle to care for him while I'm away. Will you do that?"

Sensing his predicament, I replied, "Yes, but please hurry."

After Nadir had gone, I sat on the chair next to the bed, silently studying Erik and wondering about his life. If it weren't for the disfigurement, Erik would be a devastatingly handsome man, judging from the unblemished side of his face.

There was nothing much I could do in this dimly lit room. I dared not venture out on my own for fear of getting lost in the labyrinthine tunnels and anything else that might be lurking there. Occasionally, I would put a wet cloth to his forehead in a futile attempt to bring down the fever. Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace as I prayed for Nadir's speedy return. Erik began to stir from his drugged state – he was delirious, mumbling and calling out Christine's name, reliving the nightmares of his past.

"_Christine, why did you lie to me and betray me… I could have made you famous…I would dare to do so many things if you were here beside me…I promise to be good forever…why did you leave… why…would you rather die than be with me?"_

As I bent over to place a wet towel on his burning forehead, he clutched at my wrist in terrible panic, his skeletal fingers digging into my skin. My scream was muted by his next words.

"_Christine…I love you!" _he sobbed in demented grief.

I was able to see tears glistening on his deformed face and my heart wept. He had fallen in love with Christine and she had broken his heart. Could a man who has purportedly never experienced love, never received love all his life, profess such love?

"_Christine, where are you?" _he moaned._  
_

"She's here," I said with hesitance. "She's here."

"_Christine… Christine…"_

My words seemed to calm him as he held my hand to his wet cheeks. I thought I would recoil with disgust but I did not. Staring at the sad remnants of his blighted existence, I knew a moment of shocked pity. At the very least, Erik deserved to die with some semblance of assurance that he would not be alone. I did not pull my hand away.

"Mademoiselle Giry…"

I didn't know how long I was down there with Erik until I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

Dazed, I looked up and saw Nadir's pitiful gaze. Suddenly, I realized that I had fallen asleep with my head next to Erik's shoulder and my hand still in his grasp on his chest. I could not remember when or how I ended up like this. It had been a very exhausting day. I carefully removed my sore wrist from Erik's loose grip and moved aside to allow Nadir to administer the medication to Erik. He coughed and sputtered as Nadir poured the liquid into his mouth. Still unconscious, Erik began to thrash about. "Leave me!" he rasped, hands flailing in protest.

Despite his failing health, he was still very strong. Grabbing his right hand, I kept saying, "It's all right, Erik. Everything will be all right…"

Both Nadir and I held him down until the potent medication took its effect and Erik slipped into a deep coma. Then, taking a damp cloth, I wiped the remaining medicine from Erik's face.

"This is all I can do for him. If the fever does not break by tomorrow, I cannot think that mercy will be long denied to him now," said Nadir with a sigh as he sat back in his chair.

Feeling lost and totally inadequate, I looked to Nadir desperate for guidance. I was sick with worry that Erik may not live another day. I didn't want him to die.

"You should go home, Mademoiselle," he said quietly. "I wish to thank you for your generosity and kindness, on Erik's behalf…I will send word to you if he is dead."

"Thank you, Monsieur," I replied, giving Erik a final glance before departing.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

That night, Maman and I had a terrible fight about Erik.

"I am your mother! You'll do what you're told!"

"Why are you so against me seeing Erik?"

"You think he deserves pity?" she demanded coldly.

"You showed him pity when you took him in," I shot back, defiant.

"I do not defend what he has done."

"But you do not care if he dies…"

We were silent for a while. Maman sighed and sank into a chair next to the cold hearth, her face in her hands. "Meg, ever since you were born, you have showed great compassion for those around you. You've been like a sister to Christine when I first brought her home. I've condoned your habit of collecting an assortment of strays into our house," she muttered. "I even tried to protect you from _him,_ afraid that it will come to this. You cannot imagine my relief when he took interest in Christine instead of you. But this has gone too far…I don't want you to get hurt. If Erik hurts you…"

"Erik will not hurt me," I told her with quiet certainty. If he had, he would have killed me that night.

"I wish I have your conviction," said Maman with a sob. "You are my one and only child, Meg. Your father died when you were so young. I don't know what I will do if you left me…"

I came and kneeled in front of my mother, looking up at her tearful face. "I promise to be careful, Maman."

"It is hardly appropriate for you to be spending time with a crazed monster…"

"Maman, you're not listening!"

Maman sighed wearily. "If this is what you wish to do then promise me you'll be back here every day before nightfall. If you do not, I shall tell the authorities everything I know. And I swear they will find him, if they have to take the opera house apart brick by brick."

I had won the argument this round but it was a tenuous arrangement. I had to show my mother that I could keep my promises. I knew that she would keep her word if I didn't come home by nightfall.

As I brushed my hair before bedtime, my thoughts wandered to the moment of waking up next to Erik. I wondered how I could fall asleep so easily, as if I knew I wouldn't be harmed, that I would be safe with him. Perhaps I was just exhausted. If it weren't for his horribly disfigured face, I would have considered it to be a very romantic notion, falling asleep beside Erik.

Suddenly, I sat up straight and stared wide-eyed at my own reflection in the mirror. What a curious thought! I've never considered myself to be a 'romantic' like Christine but a more practical and down-to-earth person. Being with Erik the past few days had stirred up a lot of conflicting emotions within me, emotions which I didn't comprehend. But I knew I wasn't falling in love with the allure or mystery of Erik the Phantom, I was certain it was just extreme pity I had felt. No matter, I decided, it was just a silly phase and I would get over it.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

"Meg!" a shrill voice jolted me from my thoughts as I walked towards the Rue Scribe the next morning. I had brought some bread and milk with me, tied up in a neat linen bundle. Last night, I had hardly slept a wink due to the nagging worry I had for Erik's health and for most part, the complicated feelings that arose from analyzing my near obsessive interest in a certain Phantom.

"Yvette, how nice to see you!" I responded with a smile, taking a moment to recognize the petite little ballerina who used to be my mother's student at Opera Populaire. "You look different!"

Yvette Troyes was the eldest daughter of a washerwoman, a _grisette_ but she had high ambitions. She was a year older than Christine and I, a skinny girl with curly brown hair, deep blue eyes and milky white skin. All of us knew that she wasn't really interested in dancing but was holding out to ensnare a rich husband/patron. It seemed that her efforts were successful as she stood in front of me decked out in pearls and a lovely pink velvet gown – she looked like a real lady.

"I was lucky to have met your mother yesterday and she told me that you were staying in this area. I had to ask a few people for directions," she gushed as she gave me a hug. "Are you going somewhere?" she inquired.

"Oh, err… I was just…," my mind raced for an excuse, "Erm, running an errand for my mother. It's not important."

"Meg, we have so much to talk about. Ever since the horrible fire at the opera house, I never saw my friends again," she said with a sigh. I only nodded silently – most of my mother's students returned to their homes when the opera house burned down. Yvette suddenly looked up with a smile and said, "I want to show you my new place, my own apartment at Luxembourg Gardens. It's not very far…"

My eyes widened in surprise - Luxembourg Gardens was an upscale district in Paris. Only the bourgeois could afford such accommodations. Yvette hailed a carriage and climbed in. "Come along, Meg!" said Yvette excitedly.

As the coach rumbled down the street, Yvette began to tell me about how she had met Monsieur Louis d'Morny, a banker and a member of the influential d'Morny family. He was obscenely rich with huge chunks of land in the south of France and he had set her up in a luxurious apartment. He even paid for her 'lessons' with a certain Madame Roget, a wealthy socialite who ran a boarding school for girls in the Latin Quarter. There she learned how to read, write, poetry, dancing and singing.

"It's all so exciting," she told me. "Madame Roget is very kind."

I could only smile at her good fortune.

"We shall have lunch at my place… I have a personal chef," she decided airily.

Yvette's apartment was tastefully furnished with gilded furniture and it has a little balcony that opened out to paved avenues lined with trees and a view of the park. It was so clean and beautiful that I felt almost ashamed of my current condition. I could see how the wealth of such nature could prove too much a temptation for the poor girl. She also showed me her wardrobe of beautiful gowns, jewelry and shoes that that Monsieur d'Morny had gifted her. As we sat down in the salon for a sumptuous lunch of veal and red wine, I casually asked Yvette whether she was happy with her life, being a kept woman.

"Louis treats me very well," she replied hastily, avoiding the question.

"Why do you want this life, a life of a courtesan?" I persisted and Yvette laughed.

"Look at these hands… they're soft, too soft for a scullery maid or a seamstress! What else can I be?" she said, admiring her manicured nails.

"I think Maman would rather send me to a convent…"

"A convent!" she exclaimed. "How terrible! You are quite pretty yourself. With a new gown, a new hairstyle and new shoes, it shouldn't be too hard to find a suitable husband for you."

"I don't know what Maman has planned for me… the opera was all we had," I told her truthfully.

Yvette reached out and held my hand. "If you need anything, you just have to ask me," she said.

"Oh, I cannot impose…" I started to protest but she put a finger to my lips.

"Not another word, Meg. We are friends, aren't we?"

When I parted company with Yvette, she pressed some coins into my hand even though I had refused. "Buy something pretty," she told me and bade me farewell. I walked along the rows of shops and chanced upon a quaint bookshop. The fine leather volumes reminded me of Erik's personal collection of books. There were a few customers inside the shop as I stepped in.

While browsing through the titles of the books on the shelves, most of them I could not read, a cold haughty voice said, "May I help you, Mademoiselle?"

My smile faded when I saw the stern looking owner standing beside me. He gave a disdainful look at my dress and wrinkled his nose. "What are you looking for?" he asked impatiently.

The other customers had begun whispering behind my back, their curiosity palpable. Like a swimmer taking a plunge, I blurted, "I… I wish to buy a gift for a… friend."

_Friend_, a curious term that certainly did not describe Erik…

"The volumes here are _very_ expensive, Mademoiselle," the gentleman said, stressing the value of the books. "How much are you willing to pay for the gift?"

I held out Yvette's coins and showed him. He cocked an eyebrow and stared at me for a moment, wondering how I could have them in my possession. "Hmm, let me see," he said as he turned away and started to find me a gift. "This one will suit you… It's a book written by an English author, Sir Thomas More titled 'Utopia'. It is efwritten in Latin. I'm sure your _friend_ will find it an interesting read."

Staring at the book in front of me, I felt intimidated and small. I didn't know how to read Latin but was determined not to show it. Smiling faintly, I asked the owner to wrap it up. As I paid for the book, I could feel the scornful stares of the other customers following me out of the shop.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

As the coach returned me to Rue Scribe, I found Nadir Shah sitting outside Erik's room and calmly smoking a tobacco pipe. Without thinking, I flew into a litany of questions, "Monsieur Nadir! What happened? Is he… is he…?"

"Dead?" Nadir shook his head. "The fever broke this morning. He is still very weak but he is fine."

I heaved a sigh of relief and silently thanked God for his mercy. "May I see him?"

"Yes, but he is still heavily drugged… I don't think he will be conscious anytime soon."

I pushed through the door and stepped into Erik's room. He looked the same as the last time I saw him, a skeletal figure in the bed. Did Monsieur Nadir make a mistake about his condition? I moved toward the chair beside the bed and looked around me – this place was so bleak compared to the spacious luxury of Yvette's apartment. I reached out and touched his thin wrist just to be sure that he was still breathing. It was then that I noticed the mottled scars – scars that indicated that he had been bound by hand sometime ago. It looked like an old injury.

"_Bon jour_, Erik," I said simply. "Monsieur Nadir has given me the best news I've heard all day… to know that you will be well again. See… I brought you some food and also a book… I got it from a bookshop at the Luxembourg Gardens… The owner had recommended it to me… I don't know how to read Latin and it's not as grand as your previous collection but I hope you will like it…It's a book by an English writer, Sir Thomas More..."

I didn't notice the slight movement of Erik's hand on the blanket and when I looked up, Erik's glittering eyes were staring at me with perfect lucidity. Suddenly, I was struck dumb – at the moment, I felt a little foolish.

"Go away," he said brusquely and turned away from me. In the silence of the room, I heard him weep.

"I'm very sorry if I disturbed your peace," I said with a knot in my throat. "I will leave now."

His cold silence drove me away from the room and I met Nadir at the entrance. "He does not wish to see me," I said sadly.

"Likewise, Mademoiselle…Erik woke up and was not pleased to see me either. I thought he would be more amiable to see you. May Allah forgive me! This is my fault. He was ready to die and I should not have interfered. He told me, I had condemned him to live!"

I was shocked and angered by Nadir's words. "Monsieur, please do not think that! Erik is a fool if he didn't value your concern," I said indignantly. "I must go now. Goodbye."

Pulling up the hood of my cloak, I hurried away before angry tears fell.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

TBC. Please leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

I returned to my flat trembling with humiliation and anger - I chided myself for wishing that things were different. _He is not a friend! He never wanted your help in the first place! What would you have him say? Merci, Mademoiselle Giry?_

"Stupid, Meg!" I said out loud as I punched my battered pillow and flung myself on the bed. "I wish I hadn't met you!"

I muffled a frustrated scream with my pillow and felt much better. I wasn't going to let this setback ruin my life. It was time I put my thoughts of the opera house behind me. I dropped the key into my drawer and slammed it shut - I never wanted to go back to that cursed place again. My ranting was rudely interrupted as a mysterious voice whispered, "A magnificent display of energy and emotion, Mademoiselle. I never thought you had it in you."

Shocked, I sat up on my bed. "What? Who's there?"

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a shadow outside my window, hidden by the moonlight. I began to wonder if I was really going mad. Affronted by the intrusion and mocking voice, I retorted, "Why are you hiding? Are you afraid to come out and face me?"

"I'm afraid of no one!" he snarled, a flutter of robes made me turn around and my heart nearly stopped.

I found Erik standing in the shadows, wearing the mask, a wide brimmed hat and the most beautiful black cloak. He looked suddenly so strong, so incredibly powerful than I've seen him before.

"Forgive my intolerable manners for dropping by unannounced, Meg," he said with the impeccable manners of a house guest. "I came to collect something that belongs to me."

His voice beckoned to me as I rose from the bed like a snake to its charmer. It was so easy for Erik to weave his influence into my mind, reducing me into a puppet on a string. _He is a very dangerous man –_ said a little voice in my head, jolting me out of my trance.

No, I refused to be fooled again and my anger flared. "You followed me," I said with a scowl.

He replied cynically, "We all make errors of judgment from time to time. Did not your mother warn you about me?"

How long was he hiding outside my window? Did he hear every word I had said? Why did he make me feel so small, as if I was a child guilty of disobedience?

"My mother and I have an agreement," I stammered with fierce resentment. How dare he treat me like this?

Erik laughed! At least that was what I thought but there was nothing kind or comical in his rasp tone.

"Really?" he sneered. "That poor woman must be out of her mind!"

Fear and doubt began to fill my heart as I stared hopelessly at the door. Despite registering the intimacy of his presence in my bedroom, all I wanted was to get out of this claustrophobic enclosure. Somewhere in my mind, I vaguely recalled him saying that he wanted to collect something from me. "Take what you want and leave," I huffed.

With a fluid movement, he advanced upon me and I found that I could not take my eyes off him, aware of the chill down my spine and some other emotion that I dared not analyze. He moved over to my bedside drawer behind me and picked up the key to his place. No, not the key! I wanted to protest but stayed silent – I had no business holding on to something that was not mine.

"You don't need this anymore," Erik said, slipping the key into his pocket.

"Wait," I burst out, unable to bear it any longer as anger turned to regret. _Please don't go yet..._

Erik stopped abruptly and swayed, leaned heavily against the window frame as if the effects of the fever and medication had worn him out. I could hear his heavy breathing as I ventured closer.

He turned to me and said, "Tell me, Meg. Aren't you afraid of me? What do you hope to achieve by helping me?"

The hazy fear became sickening dread as I could not find an answer. "I don't know," I told him truthfully. I wished I had known, a natural instinct to protect and nurture perhaps?

"My dear girl," he said calmly. "You should be. You should be very afraid indeed. The stories told by your mother and the others are true, all of them are true."

"Was Christine afraid of you too?" I found myself asking him. "Was that why she left?"

I could tell that he was displeased when I brought up Christine's name. He turned away abruptly, the cloak swirling gracefully around him.

"If you insist on prying into my affairs, I'm afraid I will have no choice but to kill you," he muttered the threat. "Don't ever come back, Meg Giry. That's my final warning."

At that, he jumped out of the window and disappeared into the night. So this was a goodbye in the form of a death threat, how polite!

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

I didn't know much about finances but I could tell that Maman was having trouble finding work. It had been over two weeks and she had not found a position as a ballet instructor. The neighbors started to knock on our door, asking for the money that Maman had borrowed from them. Maman never mentioned it to me but I could sense the struggle that she had to bear to put food on our table and a roof over our heads. Maman wanted me to continue my dance lessons but she could not afford one now. One day, she came into my room and insisted that I put on a nice dress.

"Why?" I asked curiously. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to the Chagny estate in the country," she told me. "Raoul and Christine are back from their vacation."

I knew that Raoul had taken Christine away after the incident at the opera house. It had been a month since they left. As the coach entered the massive gateway to the Chagny estate in the outskirts of Paris, I could not help but peer out at the vast lands, the rolling hills, grazing sheep and the beautiful country manor. It was a perfect summer's day with birds singing and a gentle breeze rustling in the leaves. As we stepped out of the coach, I saw Christine Daae running down the steps towards us.

"Madame Giry! Meg! I'm so happy to see the both of you!" she cried out with excitement. "I've missed you!"

"Christine, it's so nice to see you again… Thank you for inviting us," said Maman graciously as I gave Christine a sisterly hug.

"How was your trip to the south of France?" I asked as she led us into the manor.

"Oh, it was so beautiful – the sea and the beaches were simply glorious. We had such a wonderful time," gushed Christine as I could see the flush on her cheeks and the glittering diamond ring on her finger.

"It has done you so much good," Maman said. "By the way, where is the Vicomte?"

Christine smiled. "Raoul went out riding this morning," she told us. "He will be so pleased to know you are here… come, let us proceed to the salon for some tea."

All around us, the faces of Raoul's forefathers bear down from the massive portraits on the walls. They were tall and handsome, just like Raoul. After the death of his brother, Raoul had inherited the Chagny line and wealth. He was also free to marry a bride of his choice and it seemed that he has already set his eyes on marrying Christine.

The salon offered a wonderful view of the rose garden and beyond. A gardener was spreading water across the manicured green grass making a loud and distinctive sound while the others were on their hands and knees cutting the grass with scissors. As Christine poured tea from a silver Samovar in front of her into dainty little teacups, we heard a rider approaching. Galloping with great abandon, Raoul expertly led his horse up the incline and over hedges. He sent gardeners shaping the grounds fleeing from his path.

He jumped from his horse and proceeded carelessly up the stairway towards us. A pair of boots track a freshly scrubbed floor while three steps behind, the valet snapped his fingers signaling the staff to clean up the mess. Maman and I quickly got on our feet. "Madame Giry," he said, bowing slightly to kiss Maman's hand. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"You are very kind," Maman responded with a smile.

Then he turned his attention to me and said, "Meg Giry, you look prettier each day."

Blushing at the compliment, I replied, "Thank you, Vicomte."

"Please call me, Raoul," he insisted as he sat down with us. "Especially since the both of you are like family to Christine… She has been through so much."

He glanced at Christine who seemed disinclined to discuss it further. Maman nodded in agreement and I decided to change the subject. "So what news is there with you both? Christine just told us that you had a glorious time in south of France."

"Indeed! We had a wonderful time at the Riviera," Raoul began as he could not contain the excitement in his voice. "We wish we could spend more time together but my brother's affairs needed my urgent attention. There is also another matter, of course… Christine and I will be married next month!"

Christine looked rather uncomfortable but Raoul did not seem to notice. She averted his glance and stared at the rose bushes, lost in thought. What was the matter with her? I wondered.

"A public announcement will be made shortly," Raoul declared proudly.

"Congratulations, Raoul and Christine!" Maman said and gave Christine a hug. "It is indeed good news."

"Thank you," replied Christine distractedly.

"You must stay with us, at least until the wedding day. Christine has been very lonely as I'm always away," said Raoul.

Christine soon forgot what had been bothering her a minute ago. "Yes, you must stay!We have plenty of guest rooms," she said enthusiastically.

Maman and I were shocked by the invitation as we stared at each other, not knowing what to say. Raoul was very generous to open up his manor to us.

"Raoul, please permit me to speak with you on a private matter," said Maman gravely. "Meg, stay and chat with Christine…I'll be with you shortly."

Raoul looked surprised. "Very well, Madame… We can use my study."

As I watched them leave, Christine tugged at my hand. "Come on, Meg… let me show you around the manor," she said, rising from her chair.

We walked through the stables where Raoul kept his prized horses and watched the stable boys put fresh hay into the boxes, poured food for the horses and brushed their shiny flanks. Christine told me all about their trip to the south of France – they had gone sailing, fishing, long walks on the beach and had stayed at the Chagny's summer house at _La Croisette_. As she described the things they had done, I began to wonder if Christine knew what she had done to Erik. While Christine was enjoying herself, Erik was left with nothing but his broken heart.

"Raoul has been so patient and kind to me," she said with a sigh. "He loves me very much. When he asked me to marry him, I couldn't say no…"

I looked up sharply. Did Christine have second thoughts about marrying Raoul, the boy who had been her childhood sweetheart?

"Christine, do you not love Raoul?"

She seemed surprised at my question. "Oh, of course I love him!" she replied with a nervous laugh. The smile on her face did not quite reach her eyes. I did not have the chance to question her further as Maman had appeared with Raoul.

"I have decided that we shall be staying here temporarily until a more permanent arrangement could be made," Maman announced to us.

"That is wonderful!" Christine exclaimed joyfully. "Oh, we will have such a gala time preparing for the wedding!"

The next day, Raoul sent a carriage to pick us up together with our meager belongings while curious neighbors looked on. Rumors were rife that Maman had arranged for me to become a courtesan but I took no notice – let them say what they want. We were moving to the Chagny estate!

Christine, excited to have me with her, took my arm as I stepped out of the carriage and led me through the various corridors of the manor. Then she stopped at one of the doors and pushed it open to reveal a beautiful bedroom with adjacent dressing area. There was a huge oak framed bed in the middle of the room, an ornate dressing table with a full length mirror, soft sheets and velvet draperies. I was suitably impressed, marveling at the grandiosity of it all.

"This is… incredible."

"Your room is next to mine," said Christine. "That way, we can be together all the time, just like old times…"

We laughed and hugged each other close.

"I am so glad you are here," she muttered into my hair. "Come, I have arranged a wonderful start to this arrangement."

We went shopping for a new wardrobe as bales upon bales of silk, satin and velvet were laid in front of us. I chose a few gown designs and was measured by the city's foremost tailors. Then I was whisked away to purchase hats, gloves, jewelry and shoes. At the end of the day, we came back to the manor, exhausted and happy. Servants immediately attended to our needs, preparing tea and cakes at the salon. While we were chatting away and enjoying our tea, Raoul's valet tapped softly on the door.

"Mademoiselle Daae, the Vicomte left a note for you," he said formally and bowed before making his exit.

"I wonder what it could be," Christine murmured as she opened the note and read its contents. I saw a frown appearing on her lovely face.

"What is it, Christine?"

She looked up from the note and informed me that Raoul had invited his closest friends and relatives to a dinner party at the manor. He planned on announcing his plans to marry Christine tomorrow night. Tossing the note aside, Christine became agitated and distressed. Several moments passed in silence.

"I'm afraid that his friends and family will not accept me… I'm not of royal blood or from a wealthy family. I'm just an opera singer," she said sadly.

"Have faith, Christine," I advised her. "What's important is that Raoul loves you. He will never let anyone hurt you."

"I know but I can't help wondering if this is a terrible _mesalliance_," she murmured.

I went to Christine and gave her a hug. I could see tears in her eyes. Poor Christine, I thought. Will she ever be truly happy?

"Look at me, Christine," I said gently. "I will be there for you. Maman and Raoul too… You won't be alone."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Please leave a review. I'll be updating regularly. xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Raoul had gone to extreme lengths to impress his guests - calligraphy place cards were painstakingly hand-written in preparation for a formal reception, servants meticulously cleaned an elaborate crystal chandelier in the grand foyer and polished silver cutlery while fresh flowers were arranged in several enormous vases. On the outside, lanterns were being strung throughout the estate and rugs beaten out of open windows.

Meanwhile, Christine showed neither pleasure nor interest in the elaborate arrangements. Despite my efforts to keep her spirits up, her thoughts seemed far away.

As the evening drew near, carriages began to arrive at the manor. Musicians began to play light melodies to entertain the guests as they filled the massive ballroom in formal attire. Seeing the arrival of guests, I quickly checked my own reflection in the mirror. "Not bad," I smiled indulgently, admiring my choice of a light blue gown and a sapphire pendant. Then I hurried to Christine's room.

Tapping softly on the door, I peered in. "Christine?"

She was already dressed and standing in front of a full length mirror as maids flustered around her. Christine wore a light lavender gown of lace and chiffon, her hair piled up high on her head and adorned with a diamond tiara, her face delicately painted to accentuate her beauty. The effect was dazzling – Christine looked every inch a royal princess!

I came over to stand beside her, grossly overshadowed by Christine's beauty but I didn't mind - tonight did not belong to me. "You look amazing, Christine. Everyone will be envious of Raoul for having a beautiful and famous fiancee," I said to her. She turned to me and gave me a wistful smile.

"Meg! Christine!" Maman called to us. "It is time. We should not keep the guests waiting."

A hush fell as we entered the ballroom. Christine squeezed my hand nervously when she noticed the huge crowd dressed elaborately in silks, exotic feathers, furs and lace. Raoul saw us and began to make his way to meet us. He was wearing an elegant black dress jacket with silk lacing and tails, a perfect cravat on his neck, his blond locks oiled and centrally parted. He bowed slightly and kissed the back of Christine's hand. "You look lovely, my dear," he said, beaming with pride. Then he turned and greeted Maman and I with a nod and a smile.

I gave Christine a reassuring smile as he led her away to the center of the room. The crowd was eagerly waiting for Raoul to introduce his new fiancée whose identity was a kept secret until now. They were shocked when he announced to all that Christine Daae was to be his wife. All eyes were staring at a particular elderly woman of regal bearing seated at a corner of the room, to see whether they dared to show approval of this match. Who was she? I began to wonder.

It seemed like all eternity before the woman leaned forward in her chair as Raoul brought Christine to her. They spoke in hushed tones but there was an audible sigh from the crowd as the woman nodded her head.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served," the valet announced as if on cue and the doors to the dining hall opened to reveal a long table laden with gleaming silverware.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced?" a deep and kind voice said behind me. I turned around and was surprised to see a good looking young man, about Raoul's age looking at me.

"I don't believe so. My name is Marguerite Giry. I'm a friend of Mademoiselle Daae," I replied with a smile.

"Armand d'Tournay. Raoul is my cousin," he said, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkled as he lightly kissed my outstretched hand, as was the customary gesture. I should have known they were related - he possessed the Chagny features; blond hair, high cheeks, blue eyes and an aquiline nose.

"Normally I prefer not to attend formal parties but my cousin has baited me with a tempting offer…," he stopped for a moment, as though begging silently to be released from this confession but I merely waited for him to continue. "Raoul told me that tonight I would meet a very lovely girl…"

I was flattered by the attention and took a liking to him. "It is possible that I'm not the girl you seek, Monsieur," I remarked lightly. "Or shall I address you as with a title?"

"Armand, please," he said kindly. "I don't usually stand on ceremony anyway."

"Meg, we should go now," said Maman imperiously as she interrupted us.

I smiled shyly at him. "I have to go with my mother."

"Perhaps we could talk again after dinner?" he asked, seemingly reluctant to let me leave.

"Yes, I'd like that," I replied and turned to follow Maman into the dining hall.

"Who is that man?" Maman demanded, keeping her voice low so that no one else could hear.

"He is Raoul's cousin, Armand."

"You and I are going to have a serious discussion tonight about proper courting etiquette if you want to land yourself a husband, young lady," said Maman as I gaped at her in astonishment. Armand was only making polite conversation and I certainly had no intentions of getting married anytime soon.

As we took our seats at the dining table, the guests have begun to whisper among themselves –

"_She's the singer from the Opera Populaire..."_

"_The child of a poor violinist…"_

"_She must have charmed Raoul with magic…"_

"_Poor Raoul…"_

The elderly woman was Raoul's aunt, his father's sister and the Dowager Duchess of Montpelier. She was extremely wealthy and wielded considerable influence amongst Paris' elite circles. Raoul and Christine were seated on each side of the Duchess. I was too far away to hear any of their conversations but I knew that Christine would tell me later. If it hadn't been by chance that Armand d'Tournay was seated opposite me at the table, I would have been bored to death. Despite the closeness between us, we could not talk as the servants kept piling our plates with food and pouring wine. He gave me an apologetic look as though he too was bored with polite conversations about politics and the weather. Maman watched us like a hawk and made no qualms about showing her dislike for Armand. I knew she was protecting my reputation from the likes of wealthy young men looking for a good time. Silently, I wished she wasn't so uptight about our non-existent relationship.

After dinner, the guests were ushered into the adjoining music room. As I settled into a seat near the doorway I overheard one of the guests call out. "Armand, where are you? Why don't you play something for us?"

It was followed by enthusiastic applause and shouts of "_Oui! Oui!_"

Armand walked through the silent and crowded room to seat himself at the grand piano. He looked up and when he caught my eye, he smiled and started to play a lovely sonata by Mozart. He was an exceptional pianist as I watched mesmerized by the way his deft fingers moved effortlessly on the keys. The recital ended with loud applause from the guests. Just as Armand was about to stand up and leave, the Duchess suddenly spoke up. "Bravo!" she said. "Please remain seated, Armand…Mademoiselle Daae here is an accomplished singer. Perhaps, she could entertain us with a few arias…"

One could hear a pin drop in the room as I turned and saw Christine's face turn white. "Your Grace, I haven't been singing since I left the opera house," she muttered with a nervous smile.

The Duchess' smile faded. "I hear your reputation precedes you, Mademoiselle. I am an old woman… humor me," the old woman said icily.

Raoul saw Christine's distress and tried to salvage the situation. "Your Grace…"

Before he could proceed, the Duchess gave him a withering look. "Raoul, the women in the Chagny line have always been strong and willful, save for your poor mother. I certainly hope that Mademoiselle Daae will be strong enough to withstand that strain of the public eye and the duties that are required of her!"

He could do nothing but retreat in angry silence as the old woman threw Christine a challenge. I became worried for Christine when she stood up and bowed politely. "If it pleases Your Grace, I shall sing for you," she said stiffly.

_No, she's not ready!_

I started to stand up in protest but Maman held my hand and shook her head.

Don't interfere, she seemed to say.

"You know the role of Marguerite from _Faust_," the Duchess stated with cruel satisfaction. "Sing the 'Jewel Song'. Armand will accompany you on the piano."

Christine stood calmly by the piano and began to sing –

_Ah! je ris de me voir _

_si belle en ce miroir ..._

_Ah. If only he were here_

_to see me like this…_

_Like a lady, _

_he would find me beautiful!_

It was certainly painful to see Christine struggle with her inner demons and sing but she carried on bravely, blinking back tears that threatened to roll down her perfect cheeks. Her voice was perfectly pitched and everyone sat riveted to their seats, enamored by Christine's singing. Raoul, Maman and I were the only ones in the room who knew the reasons for her reluctance to sing again. Oh, how I hated that old woman!

As the music ended, the Duchess nodded her head and clapped, followed by applause from the crowd. Christine bowed graciously and said with a trembling voice, "I feel unwell. I would like to retire to my room… I bid you good night, Your Grace."

The old woman smiled smugly as Christine left the music room.

"Christine!"

Raoul jumped up and called to her but his aunt stopped him.

"Let her go, Raoul... She will be fine tomorrow," the Duchess muttered. "You must stay and fill me in on your plans for the future!"

Raoul looked back hesitantly at Christine and decided to stay behind with the Duchess. I stood up and hurried after her. It had become all too unbearable for me to remain in that room.

"Mademoiselle Giry!"

I ignored it and the footsteps behind me.

"Wait!"

Suddenly, Armand stood in front of my path and I barely managed to avoid colliding into him. He had slipped out of the music room too. "Mademoiselle, why are you leaving so soon?" he asked, clearly bewildered. Had he not eyes to see what his aunt had done to Christine?

"I cannot stay… I have to go to my friend… She's ill," I muttered in annoyance.

As I made to go upstairs, he implored with a sincerity that shone out of those handsome blue eyes, "Mademoiselle, I would like to come again to see you."

"I'm afraid that would be impossible," I told him rudely. "My mother forbids it."

That should close any further discussion of the matter but he refused to be thwarted. "I shall write to you, Mademoiselle!" I heard him say as I ran up the stairs to Christine's room.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

I found her huddled in front of the fireplace, staring at the flickering coals and clutching the rosary to her heart. She seemed lost in thought.

"Christine," I said as I placed my hand on her shoulder.

When she saw me, she flung herself into my arms and began to weep. I held her in my arms – Christine had been forced to re-live her memories tonight. I could hardly expect her to be all right.

Soon we settled down on her bed, her head on my lap as I stroked her hair.

"I didn't want to return to Paris but Raoul couldn't ignore his duties," Christine admitted with a sigh. "I dared not even pass by that place again."

"Tell me, Christine. What happened that night after _Don Juan Triumphant_?" I had to know. What had Erik done to make Christine so terrified?

It took a long while before she had the courage to confide in me, how it all started with the appearance of the Angel of Music…

It was a fairytale that turned into a nightmare; of love, obsession, lies and betrayal.

"Erik asked me to choose between sparing Raoul and spending the rest of my life with him… He was going to kill Raoul if I said no… He asked me to marry him… Why Meg, why did he choose me?"

"I don't know," I replied. How could anyone explain the actions of a man in love?

She paused, unsure whether she could continue. "I never meant to hurt anyone… least of all _him_. But he frightened me so badly and I didn't want to live in fear anymore. I did the only thing I knew to set Raoul free from this madness – I told him I would be his wife."

"I was ready to leave the opera house with Erik," she told me. "I was finally ready to be his wife but he released Raoul and told him to take me away… He told us to leave him… Raoul was so insistent and I didn't know what else to do… I just walked away. He told me he loved me and _I just walked away!_"

I sensed a deep regret in her voice. Did she fall in love with Erik? Was her fear a cover for something infinitely deeper?

"—now I cannot get him out of my mind," she whispered so softly that I barely heard her. "He comes to me in my dreams every night. He still haunts me…Oh Meg, I'm so frightened! I will never have peace, will I?"

"Does Raoul know about this?"

"No, please don't tell him… it will be our secret!" Christine replied hastily, begging me to keep the pact.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

The next morning, I rose early and knocked on Christine's door, hoping that somehow, she would have recovered from last night's ordeal. I had waited until Christine had fallen asleep before returning to my own room. I could not sleep at all last night – Christine had been made to believe that Erik was dead, perhaps to save her sanity and I knew that it was a lie - Erik was still very much alive. I dared not think of the consequences of revealing the truth to her. The maid that opened Christine's door informed me that she had gone downstairs for breakfast.

I passed servants busy with their morning tasks, polishing doorknobs, putting away linen, dusting picture frames. Last night's glitter and fuss were all but a memory. Then I saw her, sitting in the patio adjacent to the dining room. Her fiancé, Raoul was kneeling in front of her, his head bowed. They were talking softly and he appeared remorseful. I could not hear what they were saying - maybe he was apologizing to Christine about last night. Christine's hand then lifted his chin and stared into his eyes in a moment that seemed to last for eternity and then, slowly, uncertainly, Raoul reached up and brushed her lips briefly against his. When he drew away, she smiled and touched his cheek. She had forgiven him.

Seeing the joy on Christine's face, I knew I could not bring myself to tell her the truth about Erik. It would destroy their fragile happiness. Raoul met me at the foyer and greeted me with a wide smile before riding out. Everything seemed as it should be. While Christine and I were at breakfast, a servant came in with a message for me. I was not expecting anyone to write me as I opened the neatly handwritten note and read its contents -

**_Mademoiselle Giry, _**

**_I hope this note finds you well. I wish apologize for my rudeness and insistence last night. If you'll permit me to see you again or at least write to you, I shall be most eager and grateful. _**

**_Forever yours, Armand d'Tournay._**

"Who is it from?" Christine inquired when she saw my expression of dismay.

"Armand d'Tournay," I replied dully.

"Raoul's cousin! I've met him several times when Raoul and I were on our holiday. He is very charming and well mannered. I noticed how he was staring at you the whole time during last night's dinner. What does he want?" Christine asked.

"He wants to see me again," I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable with the topic.

"Do you like him?"

"Of course not!" I replied, blushing hotly. Then again, who wouldn't be flattered if the potential suitor happened to be charming, handsome and wealthy at the same time?

"Well? Are you going to see him again?"

"Let's just say that I'm ill at ease with aristocrats at the moment," I answered levelly.

"Oh!" Christine was surprised and gave me a nod of understanding. If last night's dinner was anything to go by, I would be better off without the likes of Armand.

"I saw Raoul this morning and he seemed happy. Is everything all right between the both of you?" I asked, anxious to change the subject.

A strange expression crossed her face. For a second, it seemed that she was looking for an exit, a path that led anywhere but here. But she stayed and her words surprised me.

"I suppose so…everything is going as planned. He wants to proceed with the wedding."

"That's wonderful news. At least, he stood up to that mean old woman."

It made Christine smile.

"Mademoiselle Daae," the valet said, interrupting our conversation. "Monsieur Frederic Worth is here to take your measurements for the wedding trousseau."

Christine took a moment before rising from her seat. "Of course, I'll see him in the living room."

As we entered the living room, we were surprised to see the servants carrying masses of luggage: suitcases, hatboxes, shoe boxes, etc. It was as if Monsieur Worth had brought his entire shop with him. Soon dress designs, bales of satin of various shades of white, laces and feathers were strewn all around Christine as Monsieur Worth took measurements off her. Christine had that far away look again, nodding automatically to any suggestion made by the renowned couturier.

"Mademoiselle, this is our latest design," Monsieur Worth said, showing her a drawing of a wedding dress. "Perhaps you would like to have a similar design…"

Christine's eyes widened as she snatched the drawing from him, a look of recognition crossed her face. "Erik made this gown for me," she gasped in horror as she sank into a nearby chair, the piece of paper slid from her grasp. "I was to wear it on our wedding day…"

Everyone was stunned by Christine's outburst. Monsieur Worth was the first to recover from the shock as he said, "Mademoiselle Daae, I assure you…"

"I can't do this… I can't…"

"Please give us some time, Monsieur," I quickly interrupted as Christine began to weep. Not wanting to create a scene ripe for gossip, I said to everyone, "I think all of you should go. I'm sorry. Mademoiselle Daae is very emotional at the moment."

I ushered everyone out of the room and came back to check on Christine. "Are you all right?"

She looked up with haunted eyes. "I… I need to get out of this house… anywhere…"

Nodding, I immediately called for a coach and grabbing our cloaks, we left the Chagny estate.

"Where to, Mademoiselle?" the coachman asked.

"Just drive," I told him curtly.

Christine ignored me the entire journey, preferring to stare out the window in a brooding silence. I wondered what went on in her thoughts the entire journey. When the coach passed the ruins that was once the opera house, she suddenly cried out in a determined voice, "Please stop!"

"Are you sure, Christine?" I asked worriedly.

"Yes," replied Christine as she stepped out of the coach. Pulling the cloak tighter around her lithe body, she pushed through the barricades and walked into the ruins.

"Please be careful," I warned her. "It is not safe here."

"Erik built this place to withstand anything… it was to be his home, his final resting place…" Christine said cryptically as she stopped in front of the great entrance. She dared not venture further. The walls were covered with soot and dirt but she removed her glove and touched the burnt wood with reverence. "I'm sorry, Erik…if only…"

She could not continue and turned away sadly. We returned to the Chagny estate late in the evening and did not discuss our curious trip to the ruins of the opera house. Raoul and Maman were waiting for us when we returned. Raoul immediately went to Christine and hugged her. "You had me very worried," he said. "Where did you go?"

"No place in particular," Christine replied vaguely. "I'm very tired, Raoul. I shall retire to my room… Good night."

All of us watched as Christine walked slowly up the stairs to her room like a woman in mourning. Maman tried to question me about our whereabouts earlier but I cut her off. "I will go with Christine," I told her.

I started up the stairs as Maman said sternly, "Meg, you left the manor without even telling me. You will explain yourself-"

Tired and angry, I turned around. "I will go with Christine if she needs me, and there is nothing you can do to stop either of us!"

I stayed with Christine that night, two girls lying on the bed in our nightgowns just like old times. She even allowed me to brush her hair.

"Thank you for being here, Meg," Christine said gratefully.

"I couldn't not be with you…"

She smiled a little and reached out to open a little antique chest by her bedside. She drew out an article in the _Epoque_. "Erik is dead." It read.

"I refuse to believe that he is dead… I cannot… Not after what I had done to him," she told me, barely holding herself together. "I wish… I wish I could see him… to hear his voice again…"

"Why? What would you have done?" I asked, a little curious and apprehensive about where this was going.

Christine closed her eyes in silent rapture. "To say how sorry I am… to tell him that I never meant to hurt him… to tell him that I… I…"

Suddenly, she shook her head and sighed. "I must be going out of my mind. Erik is dead and I will burn in hell for eternity…"

I could not bear to watch her suffer. "Christine! Listen to me," I said firmly. "Christine, please don't do this to yourself. You have to forget him… forget Erik! Your life is with Raoul now!"

"I have to tell Raoul to cancel the wedding. I cannot live a lie!"

Stunned into silence, I stared at her as the truth dawned unto me… Christine was in love with Erik! She had been too afraid to admit her feelings for Erik until now and she was crumbling under the strain of pain and despair.

I sat motionless, unable to think. There was only one way for Christine to reconcile her guilt and feelings. I had to tell her… I had to tell her that Erik was alive but I remembered Erik's warning - he wanted to be left alone. If he knew she loved him, would he want to see her again?

"Christine," I began slowly. "You must listen to me very carefully to what I'm about to tell you… I've seen him… Erik is alive…"

At first, she appeared not to have heard me as she turned away and stared at the newspaper article. "He's alive," she whispered as if in a trance. "Meg, I'm not dreaming this, am I? Erik is alive…"

"Yes, he is…"

And I proceeded calmly to tell her of my discovery of the tunnels beneath the opera house and Erik. She had the right to know what happened to Erik after she had left with Raoul that night – I told her that Erik had become very ill and that the Persian had saved him from certain death.

"Where is he now?" Christine asked anxiously.

"I don't know. He was still living beneath the opera house when I last saw him."

"I must see Erik," she insisted, putting on her cloak but I stopped her.

"Christine, you cannot! What if he does not want to see you again and … and the ruins, it's too dangerous to go there by yourself!"

She was shocked and perplexed. "Why won't he want to see me?"

"Because you rejected him!"

My words found its mark. The cloak around her shoulders slipped to the floor, pooling around her feet. "Oh Meg, I don't know what to do… I wish I could…I want to see him so much…" she murmured resignedly.

A thought came to mind. "You could write him a note," I suggested. "And I will help deliver it to him."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note: **A prelude to Beneath the Moonless Sky in LND, with a little help from Meg.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

Had I taken leave of my senses?

"_You could write him a note and I will help deliver it to him…"_

Why didn't I just let Christine write the note with my own blood and have done with it? Erik was not going to entertain any visitors, least of all me. I ought to know by now that his warnings were not to be treated lightly. In my mind, I pictured my own body floating on the Seine with my neck broken – it wasn't a pretty sight.

I needed to find a way to get out of the Chagny estate without Maman worrying and Yvette Troyes became an unlikely ally in my plan. I quickly scribbled a letter to Yvette requesting for her help and found a willing servant who could deliver the letter for five francs. Time seemed to tick away as I waited for her reply. An anxious hour later, a letter came from Yvette agreeing to the plan – I was to meet her in the afternoon at her apartment.

Although Maman disapproved of Yvette's lifestyle, she could not begrudge her former student for wanting to spend time with me. It was the opportunity I had been waiting for.

Christine had written a note to Erik and entrusted it to my care. "I cannot promise anything," I told her truthfully. "All I can do is to try…"

"I know," she said but her eyes shone a hope that could not be dimmed.

I stared at the note with Erik's name on it before slipping it into my purse. Why, oh why did I put myself in such a spot? Did I really want to help Christine or was this an excuse to see Erik? I refused to analyze these thoughts. I had a task at hand – I had to send the note to Erik. Meanwhile, Raoul was taking Christine with him to Rouen for the day.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

"Meg! Come up! Come up!" Yvette shouted from the balcony of her apartment as I walked by.

Yvette wore a lovely light blue gown of satin and lace, her hair was perfect and her smile inviting. I thanked her for helping me. "I hope I'm not intruding into your other plans for the day."

"Oh, it's not an intrusion at all… I was surprised that you were staying at the Chagny estate," she said excitedly. "When you mentioned that you wanted to meet someone and you didn't want your mother to know… I was intrigued… I couldn't say no… "

Yvette poured tea into dainty teacups and was being a perfect hostess. "So who is this person you are running off to meet in secret? A lover?" she asked curiously.

I nearly spilled my tea when I heard the word. "Oh, no… he's not my lover…"

Yvette gave me a strange look as if she did not believe me. "Not your lover _yet, _you mean… I always knew that you were a romantic at heart, putting love above all else. So what is his name?" she pressed on, unwilling to let me off that easily.

I couldn't tell her I was meeting Erik, not that she knew who he was and so, I mumbled the only name that came to mind, "Armand… His name is Armand."

"Is he good-looking, tall and wealthy?"

I nodded on all counts and Yvette was satisfied. "I can't wait to meet him," she declared.

"He is extremely shy. He doesn't like visitors," I told her, hoping that she would take the hint but it even made her more curious.

"A wealthy recluse! Where did you find him?"

"Um, it's a long story… I will tell you all about it later but I have to go now," I said apologetically.

Yvette agreed. "Yes, you mustn't keep him waiting. Meg, I wish you all the best!"

I would definitely need it as I remembered Erik's subtle death threat not too long ago. Convinced that he would do anything for Christine, I made my way to the Rue Scribe. The gate to the underground tunnels was locked and barricaded. An eerie silence surrounded the entrance. Erik must have sealed this place up so he could live the rest of his life in solitude, away from prying eyes. He must still be somewhere in the tunnels as I called out uncertainly.

"Erik? This is Meg Giry… If you can hear me, I have a letter from Christine Daae. I think you know that Christine will be marrying the Vicomte d'Chagny but there is one thing you don't know… she loves you… Erik, Christine wants to see you again… If you still love her and want her to be happy, please…_show yourself_."

Feeling a little awkward talking into empty space, I bit my lower lip to stop prattling like a lunatic and placed Christine's note carefully on the floor next to the iron gates. Even if he didn't hear my pleas, at least he would get the note.

"You cannot hide forever," I muttered as I turned away sadly. "This is not the way for a gentleman to win his love…"

As I departed from the scene, a gloved hand reached out from the shadows and silently picked up the note from the floor.

"Did I not tell you not to come here, Meg Giry?" I heard a voice whisper in the dark. "Obviously, you are not afraid of dying…"

I turned back and was caught by his unwavering stare - Erik!

"You were here all this time!" I said in annoyance but inwardly glad that my efforts had not gone to waste.

He gave a low chuckle. "Yes, I was merely observing you and waiting to see what you would do," he replied calmly.

Observed?

"Well, I do not like your mind games… it frightens me," I retorted, unnerved by the notion.

"Here, take this back to Mademoiselle Daae," he told me as he handed to me Christine's note. "I do not wish to know its contents."

"Why?" I asked in dismay. "This could be your chance at happiness and hers too…"

"What you call happiness is nothing but a tumult in the mind, a tempest of passion," Erik said in a detached manner. "It will pass... I do not wish to give Mademoiselle Daae false hope. She is better off with the Vicomte."

"If you see her now, you will not be so quick to judge," I protested. "You were once prepared to take her by force if necessary…"

"I was mistaken!" he roared angrily. "I let my heart rule my head but I have learned my lesson. A monster like me does not deserve love!"

"You are not a monster, Erik…"

"Enough! Your persistence tires me," Erik snapped irritably. "Go back and do not return!"

Suddenly, he turned sharply at the sound of footsteps approaching. There was somebody else at the tunnel entrance. His reflex was quick - he used one hand to push against a stone and a secret doorway appeared out of thin air. With the other, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the dark corridor.

"Monsieur, I saw her come down here," a young voice belonging to a boy said.

"I gave you five francs to follow her every day and you show me a dead end?" a man demanded. I vaguely recognized the man's voice - it was the police constable that questioned me and Maman after the fire, Inspector Mifroid. Why was he still investigating this case?

"She was here, I swear it!" the boy insisted.

The heavier set of footsteps came closer, as if examining the walls for a trap door. "Where did she go?" Mifroid mumbled to himself.

Erik decided not to linger any longer and began to drag me further into the tunnels. It was so dark I could not see where I was going. I was like a blind woman with only Erik's hand to lead me and a torch that barely lit the way.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked fearfully as I stumbled, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"I'm showing you another way out of here," Erik replied impatiently. "Stay with me if you don't want to die in these tunnels!"

Following Erik, I remembered turning one corner after another, passing numerous branches that hinted at the immensity of Erik's realm – he knew them by instinct. These tunnels were made by smugglers and anarchists during the Revolution and have been long abandoned. I had heard stories of people getting lost here and were never seen alive again. My mind was racing with horrifying scenarios of dying in these confusing passages – starvation, injury and murder. The deeper we went, the more abandoned and desolate the corridors seemed. The dense air and closed confined spaces took its toll on me as I began to feel dizzy and my lungs screamed in protest from lack of oxygen. "Erik," I gasped. "Stop… I…can't… breathe…"

Hands grabbed my shoulders as my knees buckled. My vision blurred and the last thing I saw was a shape of a white mask hovering over me.

"_Meg!" _

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

I didn't know how I ended up on a bed, my head cradled by the softest pillows and no recollection whatsoever of the journey from the tunnel to this familiar bedroom – I was in Erik's bed and in his room. He must have carried me to this room when I had fainted and laid me here untouched. But where was he? I got up from the bed and saw Christine's note on the floor – it had been opened. Then I heard a haunting and hypnotic voice just beyond the door. It could only be Erik as I leaned against the door frame and listened to him sing -

_**And at night time**_

_**I dream that you are there**_

_**But wake holding nothing but the empty air**_

_**My soul can't be alive and whole**_

_**Till I hear you sing once more…****_

Tears came to my eyes as I found Erik sitting desolately on the steps, staring at the ripples in the lake. He was hurting and his mask could not hide the grief. Even the angels in heaven would have wept at the sight.

"You are awake, Meg Giry," he said coldly, sensing my presence as he stood.

"How long was I unconscious?" I asked, hastily turning away to wipe my tears.

"An hour, to be precise…," he replied. "I apologize for making you endure the tunnels when I could have waited till the intruders left. You were unprepared… it will never happen again."

"You cannot run from the truth, Erik… no matter how far…"

He understood what I meant. "It is futile to attempt any sort of reconciliation," he said resignedly. "I wish no trace of my presence in her life again. Tell her that I have gone away… anything to make her believe that I no longer exist."

"Christine is my friend… I cannot lie to her!"

"Go home, Meg…"

"No," I told him stubbornly, refusing to be treated like a belligerent child. "If she heard you sing that song…I would thank heaven and all the saints if I had someone sing to me like that…"

I cut myself off mid-sentence as Erik gave me a questioning look. _What was I doing? What was I saying? Don't even think it. Damn, damn…_

Taking a deep breath, I focused my thoughts on Christine again - she was the reason I came here.

"What I meant to say is Christine would know that you still love her," I mumbled hurriedly. "Don't leave her wondering what could have been for the rest of her life! At the very least, tell her something that would set her soul at ease… Tell her why you had to let her go or if you still want her back…"

Having said my piece, I was about to leave when suddenly, he said softly, "Wait! I will send her a note…"

I waited with eagerness as Erik sat down at his battered writing desk and wrote a note to Christine. He handed the envelope to me. "I suppose _this_ will satisfy your demands and allow me some measure of peace," he said lightly and uttered the words that would shock me later. "Meg Giry, I have always thought you to be the ballet rat, prancing around the stage with little talent to show except for the ability to annoy me… I have misjudged you on many occasions… You are indeed your mother's child. She should be proud of you."

Perhaps I was hallucinating after all – "I believe that was a compliment you just gave me," I said, beaming brightly. "… in your own way."

We fell silent for a while. I could tell that he was unused to the kind of banter usually reserved amongst friends. He had been alone for most of his life.

"It's getting late… You should go," he told me grimly.

"Yes, of course, I will go now. Goodbye, Erik…and thank you."

As the brougham rolled into the Chagny estate at sundown, I clutched Erik's precious letter to my chest. I could not wait to show it to Christine.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Dear readers, this is definitely a Erik/Meg fic. It's just a phase that Erik is going through. Hang in there. There will be plenty of Erik/Meg in the coming chapters. ** Excerpts taken from my favorite song of LND, Till I Hear You Sing**. I just had to put it in my story! Next, Beneath the Moonless Sky, from Meg's POV… Please let me know what you think! xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

Christine was in her room when I rushed up to see her. At first, I was surprised how dark it was in her room as I called out, "Christine, are you there?"

Suddenly, she walked out from behind the shadows, watching me with a sort of contempt. "What took you so long?" she demanded.

I was shocked by the hostility in her voice. What had happened in my absence? What had caused her to be in such a foul mood?

"I… I got lost in the tunnels," I replied guardedly.

"You said that you knew where he lived…"

"I did…but I was followed…"

"By whom?"

"By the police," I said, a little annoyed by the intimidating tone. "What is it, Christine? Why are you so upset?"

She took a deep breath and refused to answer me. "Did Erik send me a note?" she asked impatiently.

"Yes, he did… Here it is…"

Christine grabbed the note from my hand like a greedy child, starved of food. She turned away and hurried over to the fireplace, determined not to share the information. There, she read Erik's note and her anger dissipated as she smiled, pleased with its contents.

Puzzled and hurt by her enmity, I retreated to my own room and sat down miserably. Christine was behaving very strangely - her tone was almost as if… as if… she was jealous!

_This is absurd,_ I thought but I suddenly recalled the moment when I entered her room – _What took you so long?_ she had angrily demanded.

Was she angry because I had spent the whole afternoon with Erik while she was with Raoul? Anger like hot lava bubbled to the surface – I would never betray her like that! Christine was my friend but she had regarded me as a rival for Erik's affections. Surely, she knew that Erik loved her… Erik loved her and not me. He chose to reveal himself to her, not me. I closed my eyes and sighed.

Christine had nothing to fear from me. After what I had seen and heard, I could not hope to take Erik from her. That night, I hardly slept as I was still smarting from Christine's unspoken accusations. Then I heard a soft knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I asked, getting out of bed. I was not sleepy anyway.

"It's me, Christine," came the reply as I opened the door. Christine was standing outside my room in her silk nightgown and robe.

"It's the middle of the night. What do you want?" I said, trying hard not to sound offended.

"I came to apologize …"

"What for?"

"For my outburst earlier... You're my friend and I shouldn't doubt your intentions. It was wrong of me to think that you might want _him _too…I will never ever do that again. Will you forgive me, Meg?" Christine pleaded as she grasped my hands.

I felt a little vindicated from Christine's confession as I nodded reluctantly. Her beautiful face lit up with a smile. "I will see you tomorrow then. Good night," she said, giving me a quick hug before returning to her room.

By morning, I learned that Christine had made arrangements to visit her father's grave. "It's my father's death anniversary," she told us at breakfast.

Raoul was surprised at first, as if something had crossed his mind but he shrugged it off. "Of course, you can go my dear. Do you want me to accompany you?" he said, reaching out across the table to hold Christine's hand. I noticed her other hand which was hidden under the table, was shaking. She smiled and quickly replied, "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose… besides, I won't be long…"

But Raoul appeared unsure. "I don't want you to go unaccompanied on such a trip after what had happened the last time we were there…"

"I am not a child anymore, Raoul… I can take care of myself," she declared rather impatiently. "If you still insist then I shall ask Meg to come with me."

"I'm only concerned for you, Christine," her fiancé said in a placating tone. "I'm sorry if I sounded over-protective and over-bearing…I trust you."

Raoul then left us to tend to his father's business, not suspecting anything wrong.

_She was going to meet Erik,_ I thought as I watched Christine hurry out of the dining hall. I followed her to her room and shut the door, making sure no one was listening in to our conversation. She was putting on her cloak and hat.

"Christine, what's going on?" I asked.

"I'm going to see Erik, "she whispered conspiratorially. "He told me to meet him at my father's mausoleum…There is a secret tunnel that leads from the cemetery to his home."

My heart pounded in my chest. "The note…"

"Yes, Meg… I'm going to make this right," she said mysteriously as she turned to me. "Promise me you will not tell anyone about this!"

"What about Raoul? What are you going to tell him?" I asked worriedly.

"I will send him a letter explaining everything," replied Christine. "He will understand. He always does…"

As I watched the carriage disappear from sight, I began to wonder if I would ever see Christine again.

The hours seemed to drag as my eyes kept wandering towards the gates of the manor. In my mind, I imagined how Christine and Erik would have met; eyes staring into each other in silent awe as they drew closer till their lips met under a shady tree. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I silently prayed for their safety and their happiness.

At sunset, Raoul returned to the manor in a terrible mood. "Damn the magistrate for his impudence! How dare he insinuate that I had been responsible for my own brother's death! I'll make sure he will be sacked from his post!" he muttered angrily to his valet as he flung his coat to the ground. "Where is Mademoiselle Daae?" Raoul demanded and the terrified maid could only reply that she had not yet returned from her trip to the cemetery. He froze as if a revelation had dawned on him.

Maman and I watched as Raoul stormed into Christine's room, upsetting the dressing table, tearing drawers from their shelves and scattering her clothes in outraged self-pity. We were shocked at the devastation before our eyes – the bedroom was wrecked beyond recognition and Raoul was sitting dazedly on the floor with a note in his hand. I recognized the note immediately – it was Erik's note to Christine. Raoul had found it.

"I should have known that it was the madman's doing! How could I be so naïve?" he cried loudly.

No one dared to approach Raoul, who seemed so lost without his beloved Christine and I felt guilty for being an unwitting accomplice in this treachery. What had I done? I had not realized the consequences of my actions. Christine and Erik would have been long gone from Paris by now – there was no way that Raoul could hope to stop them. As I turned away, I heard my name being called.

"Meg, you knew she was going to see Erik, didn't you?" said Raoul with quiet certainty.

Maman stared at me in astonishment.

"Christine asked me not to say anything," I replied shakily.

"Christine wasn't supposed to know that Erik is still alive! I personally made sure that his obituary was published in the _Epoque_… I did it so that she could forget him…Why? Why?" he raged.

The obituary had been Raoul's doing and the world had thought Erik was dead, including Christine. He had wanted Christine so badly, loved her so passionately that it finally drove him to this cowardly act. Raoul threw the note into the hearth in anger and with a few strides, he was upon us. "She wouldn't have known that Erik was still alive if you hadn't told her… You must have seen him…"

Raoul grabbed my shoulders and gave me a violent shake. "Tell me where!"

"I don't know where they are!" I cried painfully.

"You lie!"

"In the tunnels! He is hiding in the tunnels!" Maman shrieked in terror.

"Erik and Christine are gone now… You won't find them in Paris!" I cried painfully. "How could you do this? How could you lie to your own fiancée!"

"Please, Raoul," Maman pleaded with him. "Please don't hurt my daughter!"

Suddenly, he pushed me away and staggered back with weary resignation. "I am not the madman, Madame," he said softly as he turned away to speak to his valet.

"Favre, please escort Madame Giry and her daughter to their rooms. I will decide what to do with them later but until then, they must not leave this manor… Round up as many men as you can and contact the police. We will find Mademoiselle Daae tonight!"

"You cannot imprison us!" Maman protested vehemently but Raoul took no notice as Favre showed us out.

I stayed with Maman the whole night, locked in a room together, frightened and unsure of our future. In my wretched shame, I told Maman everything. "… Christine was so desperate and hysterical with grief that I had to help her."

"It is too late now," Maman said with a sigh. "Hopefully, Raoul will come to his senses in the morning and let us go."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Then you must find a way to escape… get as far away from here as possible," she told me. Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door, making us jump.

"Yes?" Maman answered uncertainly as Favre appeared at the doorway. It was already four in the morning.

"The Vicomte wishes to see Mademoiselle Giry," he said coldly. "…alone."

Maman held me tight. "No! I won't allow it! It is hardly appropriate –"

"The Vicomte WILL see her, with or without your consent, Madame," Favre replied, waving off Maman's protests.

Seeing no way out of this mess, I plucked up courage and stepped forward. "I will see him…"

Maman reached out to hug me as I told her that I could try to talk to Raoul and convince him to allow us to leave. She looked skeptical but we did not have any choice.

"Be careful, Meg," she said as the door closed with a bang.

I followed Favre quietly down the darkened corridor as he led me to Raoul's study. As soon as I walked in, I noticed that Raoul was sitting by the fireplace with a bottle of liquor in his hand and lying across his lap was a hunting rifle. I gasped in horror – was he going to shoot Erik and Christine?

Favre retreated and left us alone. Raoul was silent for a long time as he stared at the flickering coals.

The tense silence was making me nervous as I spoke first. "Raoul, please let us go… We have done nothing wrong… If you love Christine –"

"She was going to marry me," he finally said with a ragged voice. "I thought she loved me…"

I couldn't answer as I stood rooted on the spot, feeling sorry for him.

"I never wanted anyone except Christine… I loved her!" he said brokenly. "My late brother had opposed this match from the beginning but I didn't believe I could ever want anyone else… He told me that these chorus girls were not worthy of my status… that I deserved better… He didn't know that Christine is not like them. She was my childhood sweetheart…"

I saw his hand grip the bottle, taking another swig of the liquor before smashing it on the hearth – the bright flames greedily licked up the remnants on the glass. Shocked and perturbed by his violent behavior, I began to look for a way out as Raoul staggered to his feet. "Meg, you and I are going back to the opera house… We will find Christine and bring her back!" he said.

"What will happen to Christine when you find her? Are you going to force her to marry you?" I burst out angrily. "I will not help you!"

As I turned to leave, Raoul grabbed my hand. "Where are you going, Meg? Are you running away from me too?" he asked, lightly amused.

The foul stench of alcohol invaded my senses - he was drunk. "Release me!" I shouted, struggling in his grasp as he dragged me out of the study into the hall.

"Favre, get the coach!" Raoul shouted as he tossed the rifle to him.

"NO!" I cried as Favre headed for the front door. It was not possible for me to fight Raoul and break free from his clutches – he was too strong. Suddenly, the great doors opened and I found myself staring at the face of Christine Daae!

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Thanks for your encouraging reviews. Beneath the Moonless Sky in LND, as we all know it, basically tells of Erik and Christine's encounter before her wedding. Here I'm focusing on Raoul's and Meg's thoughts during that time. Hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

"Christine!" Raoul gasped in shock when he saw her.

Her eyes that had been red from crying, grew wide in surprise as she flung herself into my arms and wept disconsolately. "Meg!" she sobbed into my shoulder. "He's gone…"

"What?" I was baffled by the unexpected turn of events.

Christine released me and taking a deep breath, she wiped away her tears before turning to her jilted fiancé. She walked towards Raoul with new-found composure and said, "I know I have caused you great anguish with regards to my disappearance yesterday. I'm so sorry…"

Then, she reached out to caress his handsome face tenderly. "I am ready to answer all your questions…"

Raoul made no murmur of protest as he led her into his study and shut the door. They were in there for four hours and when they finally emerged, Christine stood calmly by Raoul's side as he announced that there would be no grand wedding celebration, instead they would hold a simple ceremony at the chapel in the presence of a priest and a few close friends. After that, they would move to England. It was as though they wanted to forget the past and start anew in a place far from Paris.

A simple white dress and a laced veil became Christine's wedding attire as I came into her room to check on her. She didn't look like a radiant bride instead she looked tired and pale. Dismissing the maid, Christine gestured to a chair as we both sat down.

"Christine, are you sure you want to go through with the wedding?" I asked cautiously. "Surely, you need time to reconsider…"

"I will marry Raoul," she said with a sigh.

"But why?" I asked, controlling my anger with enormous difficulty. I had wanted to tell Christine that a few hours ago, Raoul was going to kill her. How could she ever want to marry that... that bastard?

"Because Erik told me to…"

Christine said sadly as she began to relate to me about her meeting with Erik at the cemetery. It had been such a bittersweet encounter that she had fainted into his arms. Erik had carried her to his home and there in his arms, he told her to marry Raoul and forget him. At first, she was shocked and angry at his cruelty, jerking violently away from him and sobbing wildly, telling him how miserable she was – how could he love her and then ask her to marry another man?

"I asked him if he really, truly loved me… and he replied that he loved me and it was because of this love that he had to let me go," she said sadly. "I couldn't accept it even as he tried to explain it to me. I was prepared to forsake everything to be with him. We argued and struggled with our emotions and one thing led to another…"

My eyes grew wide with amazement.

"We were lost in the flames of passion, our needs too urgent to deny… I gave myself to him last night. Nothing mattered anymore. In the morning, I woke to swear my love but he was gone… Erik was gone. He left me!" Christine sobbed bitterly.

I didn't know what to say to her. There was no excuse for Erik to behave so atrociously.

After a few moments, Christine straightened up and sighed. "I told Raoul everything and he still wants me in spite of what I had done. I know Raoul would never leave me. He was there for me even as a child he would do anything to please me. That is why I came back. It seemed the right thing to do…"

"What you feel for Raoul is gratitude, not love," I told her firmly. "Are you prepared to spend the rest of your life like this?"

"Raoul loves me and I'm sure I will be able to love him back someday," Christine replied uncertainly as she pulled the laced veil over her face. "It is time."

Stricken with guilt and pity, I hugged her and wept. _I am sorry…_

"Oh, Meg… don't look at me like that," she said with brave smile. "Erik had meant to leave me last night…It's nobody's fault but my own. I had refused to accept that he was leaving me."

Christine and Raoul made their vows in a private ceremony before a priest as Maman and I were present as witnesses. In the end, Raoul got his bride and Christine, a secure future. It was difficult for me to understand why Christine could accept her lot in life and why Erik chose to leave. It felt so wrong and it didn't make sense at all. I wondered if they would be happy with their decisions.

The manor was put up for lease as the servants packed up their belongings and covered the furniture with white sheets. Raoul gave his home a final look before stepping into the coach while Christine gave Maman and I a hug. Then she pressed a pouch containing a few hundred francs into my hand. "Here, take this," she said. "Raoul and I thought that you may need it…"

"Christine," I protested throwing a hateful look at Raoul who skulked inside the carriage. Christine may have thought that it was a parting gift but to me, it was more of a bribe to keep our silence. "This is not necessary—"

Christine shook her head and insisted that I take it. There were tears glistening, unshed in her blue eyes and I didn't have the heart to refuse her. Furthermore, I knew that we would need some financial aid in the coming winter.

"Please forgive Raoul. He didn't mean to hurt you or your mother," Christine said, offering a proverbial olive branch. "He told me everything. There are no more secrets."

I loved Christine like a sister. If Christine could forgive Raoul, then I would have to do the same - for her sake. Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Goodbye, my dearest friend," she said to me. "I will write as soon as we find a place to settle down."

I watched the carriage roll away from the estate as it headed towards the port – a ship was waiting at Calais to sail to England. "Take care, Christine," I whispered to the expanse that lay between us. "Till we meet again…"

Wiping away my own tears, I turned and climbed into another coach with Maman.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Winter was very hard - snowfalls, blizzards and frost continued to grip the city for weeks. Maman and I managed to rent a small room in a crowded boarding house on the edge of Montmartre with Christine's financial aid. There were no luxuries, only cold gray walls, worn beds, ugly curtains and colder stoves. Most of the occupants here were laborers, tailors, artists and prostitutes - the working class of Paris. In the bleakest of days, I was so frozen that I could not feel my hands and feet. In those times, I began to miss my old home at the Opera Populaire – the warmth, lively music, vivid colors and gaiety, all of which were absent in my life now.

Maman couldn't find work at the ballet schools around Paris and had to settle for a job at a factory making shoes while I became a seamstress' apprentice. It didn't pay much but our combined income was enough to see us through winter. We no longer could afford to further my ballet lessons due to the exorbitant prices charged by the schools.

Poor ventilation, heating and crowded spaces at the factory soon took a toll on my mother's failing health – she began to develop a chronic cough in the chill of spring. Our financial resources dwindled as Maman could no longer work and money was spent on doctor's bills and expensive medication. One day, the local doctor wanted to speak to me after examining my mother. He was forthright in putting matters very plainly.

"Meg, your mother is very sick. She needs to be admitted in a proper hospital," he told me grimly after Maman was asleep.

My world seemed to stop turning – Maman's condition had become so serious that he considered the only means of saving her life would be treatment at a hospital, which meant a lot of money… money we didn't have. The doctor's voice buzzed meaninglessly in my ears as he explained my mother's illness, something called _tuberculosis_.

"With the proper care, your mother should have a reasonable chance of survival but do not delay," the doctor said ominously.

A dull heaviness closed in around me as I nodded silently and showed the doctor out. Slowly, I returned to Maman's bedside and sat down. The terrible symptoms that the doctor hinted were beginning to show; droplets of blood in her coughing, night sweats and high fever. I suddenly understood what horrors lay ahead. There was no question of choice now - Maman had to seek treatment at a hospital.

The measly wages I received at work was hardly enough - I began to ask for small loans from my fellow workers and even sold my pretty dresses to pay for the doctor's bills. Yvette was kind and sympathetic to my condition and often sent food leftover from her kitchen. Our rent was 3 months overdue and the landlord was already threatening to kick us out. I was drowning in a morass of debt, but I refused to give up. For Maman's sake, I simply could not give up!

"Don't worry, Maman," I whispered. "I will find a way."

One Sunday, as I had gone for a walk along the Champs-Elysees to clear my troubled mind after my work shift, I heard lively music coming from the first floor of the building above me. Oh, how sweet and melodious were the strains of the violin! It had reminded me of the time when I was happy and I had no worry in the world. I didn't know how long I had been standing there beneath the balcony, allowing the music to lift my tired soul and warm my heart. The dull gray walls of Paris began to fade as ghostly music and faint shouts of stagehands filled my mind. Soon I was running along the corridors of the Opera Populaire once more, past the stage in ballet slippers, giggling like a little girl.

"_Bon jour Meg, you look so pretty today…"_

"_Why, thank you Jacques," I replied, waving to the young scene shifter._

"_Meg, where are you? It's time to get dressed!"the wardrobe mistress shouted._

"_I'll be there!"_

The music was vibrant now as I climbed up to the secret window above the grand staircase of the Opera Populaire. Men in tie and tails and women in exquisite gowns mingled as they waited to take their seats. It was a beautiful night and I was lost in wonder again. Suddenly, I felt a chill of terror as a black specter moved behind me.

"_Mademoiselle?"_

I opened my eyes in shock to find an elderly couple hovering over me, anxious to see if I was all right. Who were they? I realized that I was lying down on the steps of the building - I must have passed out from exhaustion on the street. The opera house was gone, the music had stopped and the cloud of despair returned.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" the man asked.

Although my heart was breaking, I managed a smile and struggled to reply, "Yes, I'm fine… "

Sadly as I was making my way back home, I suddenly noticed that the door was slightly ajar – there was someone inside our home with Maman! We usually did not receive any guests, except for the doctor and the occasional nosy neighbor. I pushed the door open and found the person I least wanted to see – Erik was seated next to Maman's bed, his white mask glistened in the candlelight. They were talking in hushed tones. All at once, my pent up rage and ugly emotions that had been festering inside me rose to the surface as I barged in unannounced. Erik did this to us – he had no right to come in here and ruin our lives!

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

Maman turned to me and I saw that her cheeks were wet with tears. "Meg…" she began to speak with much difficulty but Erik held up his hand. "No, Antoinette," he said calmly to my mother as he turned to me. "I came to visit an old friend, to say goodbye… I will be leaving France soon."

"Good, you should have gone months ago!" I retorted and saw his yellow eyes flash menacingly but my rage overwhelmed all apprehension. I didn't care if he killed all of us. There was nothing left to live for. "Leave us alone! We don't want you here… You ruined our lives, ruined everything! I hate you, Erik… I wish you were dead."

Maman gasped in shock as her eyes wandered worriedly to Erik, wondering what he might do. He stood up from his chair slowly and put on his hat and cloak. "I see my presence here is no longer required. I shall take my leave now. Madame, I wish you well and good night."

Like a perfect guest, he bowed slightly to Maman and made to leave. I looked away into the cold stove as he walked past unhindered to the door. He stopped and murmured, "Your mother is very ill…She will not live to see the summer."

I felt suddenly cold, as though all the blood had drained from my veins. How did he know? His words echoed the nagging feeling in my heart but I stubbornly clung on to the last shred of hope. I could not believe that this man who killed without mercy could be moved to generous pity for my plight.

"Erik, you are mistaken… the doctor told me that she will get better," I told him defiantly with my head held high. "I don't have to listen to your lies. I will not listen to ANYTHING you have to say… You used my mother, you used me, you used Christine for your own selfish gain. You didn't care about who you hurt in the process. Why should you care now?"

Erik appeared not to have heard my insult as he fished out a hundred francs from his pocket. "Here. Use it to pay your mother's medical bills."

Turning away, I snapped, "We don't need your charity! Just leave..."

"Take care of your mother, Meg," he said before disappearing under the cover of night.

I slammed the door shut and bolted it, as if it would keep Erik out of our home and our lives. Leaning against the door, I took a moment to catch my breath before going to my mother.

"I overheard your conversation with Erik," Maman commented with a weak smile. "It was rather bold for a lady-"

"I'm sorry, Maman but I was so angry," I told her with a sigh. The argument with Erik had sapped all my energy as I sank unto the chair next to Maman.

"Erik came to make his peace…"

"I wish he would just leave us alone!" I retorted.

"Meg, I understand your bitterness and confusion. Sometimes it is easier to blame others for our problems..."

"He was the one that drove us out of our home and with it, all our dreams... my dreams ... I miss the opera house... If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be working at that terrible place and fall ill. It's all his fault," I defended my outburst. "I hate him!"

Suddenly, Maman succumbed into a fit of coughs as I quickly rubbed ointment on her withered chest, my anger forgotten.

"I don't have long to live, my health is failing …"

"Maman, don't say things like that! You will get well again, I promise—" I insisted.

"Do you think I am so blind and deaf that I cannot hear what the doctor had told you or see that you have grown thin and listless recently?" she asked and I could not reply. "I would have wanted to see you properly married to a respectable gentleman, have children and grandchildren but we cannot choose what God has planned for us…"

At this, my eyes were filled with tears as I hugged Maman.

"Hush, my child!" she said. "Be brave as the world you know is about to change…"

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

The next day, I had been invited to Yvette's place for tea. It had been my rest day from work and I didn't have anything planned. Yvette had been playing cards alone in the salon when I arrived. She was dressed to go out and I wondered why she had invited me over. I was a poor woman - my hair was badly done, skirts were awry and my hands, red and coarse from working at the clothing factory.

"Meg! I have wonderful news for you," Yvette said as soon as she saw me.

"Yvette, thank you for inviting me here," I responded.

"Please, sit with me…" she patted to the empty spot on the chair next to her. "I have an acquaintance in urgent need of a servant… Her name is Madame Roget. She is very generous and will certainly treat you well."

Yes, I remembered that name - Yvette had told me that she had been taking singing and dancing lessons from her. Madame ran a boarding school for girls in the Latin Quarter, just across the Seine.

"Will you introduce me, Yvette?" I asked eagerly.

"Of course, dear… In fact, I have arranged to meet her this afternoon," Yvette informed me.

We arrived at the steps of Madame Roget's townhouse which was located on a busy street. As the coach came to a halt, a butler appeared at the door and ushered us inside. In the foyer, a huge crystal chandelier was lowered within a foot off the floor as the servants were dusting it. We walked past heavy Oriental tapestries and vast salons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends. In the background, I could hear singing and music. Madame Roget had expensive tastes – no doubt, her husband or lover was extremely wealthy.

Madame was already waiting for us in the grand salon decorated with fresh roses and gilded mirrors. My would-be employer was an attractive and elegant woman in her thirties – she was dressed in a lovely lilac gown with black lace and pearl trimmings.

"This is Madame Roget," Yvette said as the woman approached them with a smile.

"And this must be Marguerite Giry," Madame Roget said. "Charming…"

Encouraged by the woman's warm smile, I gave a small curtsey. "Madame."

"Come and have some tea… I have prepared something to eat," Madame said as she turned and walked over to the round latticed table near the window. The table was set with delicate meals of rosy trout flesh and wings of asparagus chicken on gleaming silverware. She poured the tea into dainty teacups like a perfect hostess as we took our seats. My stomach gnawed hungrily as I stared at the food– it had been a long time since I had seen such a fine meal.

"Yvette tells me that you were a dancer in the corps de ballet at the Opera Populaire and your mother was the ballet mistress…"

I nodded in bewilderment. Why would my past as a ballet dancer be of interest to Madame Roget?

"I enjoyed the performances at the opera very much. It is such a pity that the opera house burned down."

_Together with my hopes and dreams_, I thought angrily to myself.

"I am looking for a maid to replace the one that had run away but you are not just a common country girl," Madame remarked.

Alas! My hopes were dashed – she was not interested in hiring me.

Madame Roget sipped her tea and inhaled deeply. "I could hire you but not as a servant in my household. You can still dance can you not?"

"I… I haven't had much practice since the fire," I replied nervously.

"It doesn't matter… come, show me what you can do."

In the silence that followed, I heard someone in another part of the house playing a piano. The tune sounded familiar as I gave a brief demonstration of my skills as a ballet dancer. My muscles were stiff and my moves ungainly as I could not hold my pose. I became very self-conscious of Madame's stare and bowed my head in shame. However, she did not snicker or laugh at my clumsy movements.

"It is indeed fascinating that having lived in the opera house with all its vices and immorality for so long, you managed to maintain that delicate and naïve persona, almost like a woman child. Your mother must have brought you up strictly and protected you," Madame commented. "I don't want you scrubbing floors and cleaning windows. I want you to become a dancer, an actress, something more suited to what you already know… With a little guidance and money spent, you will do extremely well."

"Madame only serves rich, famous and refined gentlemen. It is an exclusive establishment," added Yvette with a smile. "You will be very well treated."

Aghast, I cried, "You… you want me to become a… a courtesan!"

Madame sat there, unperturbed by my outburst. She turned to Yvette and said, "Will you please leave us for a while? I wish to speak to Marguerite in private."

Yvette nodded and left. As soon as the door closed behind Yvette, Madame Roget said to me, "I know this is hard for you to accept… When I came out to society, I was only sixteen. Nobody taught me anything. I've had lots of practice with different men and in many different ways. It was not passion that I sought – it was knowledge," she said in retrospect. "You are beautiful, educated and talented – you have the potential of becoming a famous _demimonde_ as I was in my younger days. If you play your cards right, you might even have a secure future and live out comfortably for the rest of your life…"

I squirmed at the awful thought of bedding various men.

"It is not as bad as you think, Meg… I will teach you everything you need to know to succeed," said Madame as she noticed the frown on my face. Sensing that I was not responding to her inclinations, she hinted, "Your mother is ill, is she not?"

My head shot up in surprise. How did she know? Did Yvette tell her about my mother's dire situation as well?

"Well, I have the means to ensure that she gets the best treatment at the hospital," she said as her hand reached out to hold mine. "Stay here, Meg and all your worries will come to an end. You can have anything you want."

So tempting was her offer that I could not refuse her. I was much reduced that day. I wanted an end to our suffering so desperately that I swallowed my battered pride.

"You mean that?" I stammered.

"Of course! All you have to do is say, yes."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

The next day, a carriage arrived to take Maman to a hospital on the outskirts of Paris, where she would receive the best medical treatment, and the fresh country air would help her recuperate. Madame Roget promised me that I could visit Maman at least once a week. I had my own little room – it was beautifully decorated in pastel shades and I had my own wardrobe of dresses and a dozen new ballerina shoes. I attended dancing lessons every day and had three full meals a day.

Despite the luxury given me, I was deeply aware that Madame Roget ran a pleasure house, where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the night. The upper floors of the apartment were forbidden - only a select few courtesans were allowed to entertain guests there. Tales of passion and intrigue were whispered amongst the girls and the servants about the sordid happenings behind those doors.

There were fifteen of us living with Madame Roget, girls from various backgrounds and different upbringing. Michelle was the prima _demimonde_ of the house - a lovely lady with chestnut colored hair and piercing blue eyes. Men bought tickets to watch her perform – the frenzied delirium of feathers, vulgar painted lips, and eyelashes of black and blue. She danced with naked feet, and thighs, and arms, and breasts barely covered by translucent costumes.

My first performance was a scant version of "Hannibal" – dressed as a harem slave, my costume was a beaded half bodice and billowing leggings made from the finest gauze. Little was left to the imagination as anyone could see through them. The audience was mostly men, the tuxedoed goatees and crooked noses in white vests and toppers would line the hall, with their hands posed on canes. Their eyes feasted and gorged on our bodies as we danced in front of them. I closed my eyes to their lust and pretended that I was on the stage at the Opera Populaire. As I hurried off the stage, I noticed the gentlemen would write something down on a piece of paper and hand it over to the male servants. A gentle nudge came from a dark-haired girl named Lily. "Only Madame knows what is in them but we all know that the men are placing a bid for a chance to wine and dine with us. You did very well tonight, Meg. Someone may notice you tonight," she said with a cheeky wink.

"Meg Giry?"

I abruptly turned around to see who it was and caught sight of Valmont, one of Madame's assistants coming towards me. "Get dressed quickly," he told me. "You are required in the Oriental Room."

My heart trembled as I replied, "Yes, Valmont..."

I sat down at my dressing table, lost in thought as I dipped a towel into the scented water and began to wipe off the face paint and glitter from my face. All this was so sudden. _What do I do? What do I say?_

All this time I had spun myself into a cozy cocoon – I felt safe, immersed in my own world of music and dancing. Now the cocoon was slowly unraveling in the ugly reality of my fate and instead of a butterfly taking flight, I floundered. Staring at my own reflection in the mirror, I saw a hopeless and lost child.

_Maman_, I cried out silently. _I'm afraid!_

Taking a deep breath, I steeled my jangled nerves and walked out to meet the mysterious guest for the evening. As Valmont escorted me to the Oriental Room, I could hear loud laughter and singing coming from inside. I shuddered at the sight of a group of young gentlemen who were present, who had too much drink and were behaving badly.

"Ah, here she is… the lovely lady of the evening! Come here and spare your favors for a deserving fellow over here… a titled blood." The man gestured to one of his friends.

"Damn you, Pierre! Let it go…"

"As your best friend, I want to treat you to a good time. Guess what? I bought you a courtesan!"

My heart nearly stopped when I recognized_ him_ – it was Armand d'Tournay, Raoul's cousin. He was sitting with his friends, enjoying the liquor and entertainment. Armand looked dashing in his velvet tuxedo and shiny boots and I suddenly became aware of my standing. My humiliation was complete. I turned away in shame and despair - I couldn't go through with this. He finally looked up at me. Oh, God! The look on his face!

"Meg?"

I shook my head and tried to hide my face. He jumped up from his chair and hurried over to me.

"It's me, Armand… don't you remember? We met at Raoul's chateau last year… I thought I would never see you again!" he exclaimed happily.

"Yes, Armand," I said weakly. "I remember now…Much has changed since we last met."

"What are you doing here?"

"I work here…"

He hid his surprise well. Unaware of my discomfort at the curious stares thrown our way, he went on, "Please don't go… You don't have to be afraid."

There was no malice in his voice as hesitantly, I took his arm and walked into the room with him. If Armand didn't mind the stares then, I shouldn't either. All his friends stared at me, inquired my name, and asked to be introduced to me.

"Gentlemen," he told his friends. "This beautiful lady here is Meg…"

That evening, I had found out that Armand had gone to the south of France during the winter holidays and that he studied law at the University of Paris. Armand and his friends had decided to come out to savor the night life that Paris had to offer. If it hadn't been for his friend Pierre, he would not have met me again. Armand continued to see me at Madame's house, something that I had begun to look forward to.

In his eyes, I was the prettiest woman present - elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above myself with happiness. Men were eager to waltz with me but I had only eyes for Armand. I danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of my beauty, in the pride of my success, in a cloud of happiness. Armand was funny, attentive and caring and yet, he never once brought up the subject of me being a courtesan. Did he not care that he would have to share me with other men?

One evening, Yvette arrived at Madame Roget's place and immediately came over to see me.

"Yvette!" I said with a frantic smile as I briefly introduced Armand to her. She trembled with delight as Armand smiled and briefly kissed her hand. Yvette turned to me and whispered, "Is he the one? You know… the one you were going out to meet the last time?"

It took me a while to recall the incident – I had forgotten that I had asked Yvette's help to deliver Christine's note to Erik. I had told Yvette that I was meeting a friend whose name was 'Armand'. It had been a wonderful plan initially, but now I wished I had never done it.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you, Armand," she said excitedly. "Meg has been so secretive about your identity."

Armand threw me a curious look but made no attempt to correct Yvette's assumptions. He merely smiled and answered her questions politely. They chatted for a while and Yvette promised that the three of us should go out together someday, with Madame's permission of course. I just gave a non-committal shrug.

After Yvette had gone, Armand noticed my anguish as he said quietly, "I'm not the one she spoke of. Who is he? Is he your lover?"

I stared at the man who sat before me, the man whom I had grown to love. I could tell that he liked me too. We had been seeing each other for many weeks. Why now? When he suspected that there was someone else? For a moment, I felt an urge to break through the veneer of pretense to the real feelings and issues running like a deep undercurrent of our relationship. I shook my head. "He's not my lover…It's a long story… maybe, one day I will tell you all about it."

Armand relaxed considerably. "I'm relieved that I don't have a rival for your affections, Meg. I thought you already have a lover."

"If I had a lover, I wouldn't be spending my evenings with you."

For a long time, neither of us moved nor spoke. Finally, Armand stood up and picked his coat off the rack. "I will be leaving Paris for a while. I won't be back until maybe May or June."

"So long?" I said, my lips quivering. I could not imagine being without Armand – it was now or never. "Take me with you…"

_Please don't ask me to beg…_

He turned and looked at me with haunting sadness. "I wish I could, Meg… but it just doesn't seem possible. You have beautiful clothes and plenty to eat … you're better off here than with me," he finished abruptly. What was he saying? I could not believe it - Armand was telling me to be content with my lot!

"You need not worry," I told him coldly. "I will not ask again."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was hoping that Armand would save me from my wretched existence. Stupid me!

Armand ran his fingers through his hair carelessly. "Listen to me, Meg. I tried… I asked Madame Roget to name her price… not once but three times! She refused… She said that she would never let you go, not at any price."

The revelation shook me to the core as I sank down on the chaise. "Why did you not tell me this?"

"Because I didn't want to give you hope when there is none!" he cried out in frustration. "I am as trapped as you are, Meg…I have a duty to my family, to society and its traditions. Do you not understand? We can never ever be truly free."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: This is where the story goes AU. Enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

**Author's Note: **This chapter is rated for violence and sexual aggression.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

I visited Maman as often as I could at the hospital – she appeared to be recovering from her illness. Maman was now able to sit up, walk and talk without gasping or coughing. It was the only bright spark in my otherwise hateful existence. Armand had gone and all my hopes were crushed. I felt used and betrayed. I had been robbed of love and pride, an empty vessel, devoid of emotion as I wined and dined with Madame's clients night after night. Maman never asked me how I had the means to afford the medical treatment but I could see it in her eyes – she knew.

"You look very sad today," Maman remarked one day as we walked in the hospital grounds. "Your eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle. Did something happen to you?"

Maman did not have to know about my performances at the pleasure house - dances that shocked contemporary audiences either with their frank depictions of sexuality or with unusual artistic elements, like fire and exotic reptiles. She needn't know about Armand who had left me broken-hearted.

I shook my head as I tried to smile. Maman would worry – she had already been through so much. "It's nothing, Maman… I'm just tired from the late nights."

"You don't have to do this," she said, stopping abruptly, forcing me to face her.

"Yes, I do… I do want this!" I insisted, albeit half-heartedly as I stared at the little waves washing against the bank of the river. "I have pretty dresses and full meals...I'm content."

"Meg! It hurts me to see you like this," Maman said, reaching out to hold my shoulders and brush the hair from my face. "It's my fault."

"Please Maman… Don't blame yourself for my fate," I said, casting a wary glance towards the entrance of the hospital where Valmont was waiting in the coach. "Some things aren't meant to be…"

"Then you must run away from this cursed place!"

I shook my head adamantly. "I can't …I can't leave when you are here!"

"Then leave me!"

"And go where? Where can I go, Maman?" I cried helplessly. "You are everything to me…I will never leave you!"

"Meg—"

"Don't ask me to leave you, Maman," I interrupted her rudely. I was not in the mood to talk about this. "You are all that I have…I don't want to argue with you anymore... I have to go now… the coach is waiting for me. Take care of yourself. I will come again soon."

"Meg!"

I heard Maman call to me but I refused to acknowledge it, walking steadfastly away from her. Tears rolled down my cheeks as the coach rumbled away.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Upon my return from the hospital, there was a flurry of activity in the house - servants were busy cleaning and polishing the floors and furniture while Madame Roget was giving instructions to the girls. Something was about to happen, I could sense it.

"Make sure everything is spotless!" barked Madame Roget. Then she turned to me and the other girls with a wide smile. "I have a special guest tonight, a VVIP… I want everyone to look their best for him."

"Who is he?" one of the girls asked.

"His name is Prince Kasim of Persia," Madame revealed. "He is a guest of the President of France!"

The other girls returned to their rooms, chattering excitedly amongst themselves about the dresses they would be wearing tonight and comparing the latest hairstyles. "Why aren't you excited?" one of the courtesans, Marie asked. "This is a chance to make your life better… this man must be very powerful and wealthy and if he likes you…"

"Even if he could be old enough to be your father, his breath sour and the skin of his neck is loose like a turtle?" I retorted.

Marie started. "All I'm saying is that one man is as good as another. What makes the difference is how much power and influence he wields in society," she retorted coldly and walked away in a huff. The others could dream of exotic treasures and forbidden harems but not me. They could do without another rival for this royal's affections. I felt unwell and retreated to my room to sleep.

Feverish dreams haunted me as I trembled and moaned in pain. Perspiration covered my entire body as my thin chemise clung like second skin. There was a sluggish throbbing in my head that seemed to extend to all my muscles, dragging me down. I vaguely recalled a number of people in my room, discussing my condition.

"_She is weak but she will survive… Make sure she takes this medication," a man said. _

"_It's such a pity that she has to stay in her room tonight," Madame Roget murmured with a sigh. "I would've wanted the prince to know her."_

"_There will be other times, Madame. This girl must have her rest." _

"_Then we will leave her to rest…"_

Yes, let me sleep and never awake again! In my turbulent dreams, I heard a woman screaming and the screams grew louder. I could not shut it out of my head as I staggered to my feet and pulled a robe over my shivering body. Opening my room door I stumbled through the corridor and found a group of people, servants and the other courtesans had gathered. They were staring silently up at the room upstairs, their backs to me. I followed their gaze, frozen on the spot. Behind one of the doors a poor woman was pleading for help yet nobody moved! What was wrong with these people?

Madame Roget was hovering anxiously at the door as she listened to the struggle and screams inside. There were guards at the door, dressed in strange clothing and their eyes remained impassive. She turned and saw that a group of people had gathered, staring at her. She moved away from the door, unable to stop what was going on inside.

"What are you all staring at?" she hissed angrily at the crowd. "Go back to what you were doing!"

Then Madame stopped when she saw me. Madame knew the horror that had befallen one of her girls – her eyes burned with shame and anger as she said with a trembling voice, "Go to your room and lock it, you hear me? Lock it and don't come out unless I tell you to!"

A growing fear knocked me out of the daze I was in as I quickly ran back to my room and bolted the door behind me. My weak knees gave way as I sank to the floor and hands flew to my ears in a futile attempt to keep out the screams. This was only a horrific nightmare! It would pass, I chanted over and over again. The torture went on for a long time and the screaming suddenly stopped. Then I heard footsteps and low voices speaking in an alien language followed by an eerie silence.

For the first time, there was no music or laughter in this house –there was only absolute quiet. I unlocked my door and peeked out. Valmont and another man carried a stretcher down the stairs; on it was a bloodied sheet covering a corpse. I shuddered not from cold but fear – the sight of so much blood made me throw up in the wash basin. The next day, the fever left me.

The victim was Marie – her body was buried in an unmarked grave outside of the city. Although we were not close, I wept and mourned for her. She had her dreams too. Madame forbade us to speak about Marie, as if she wanted to forget the whole incident. I was appalled by her indifference. Surely, Madame knew who had raped and tortured her. The other girls dared not question Madame's silence. Did Marie not deserve justice for the crimes against her?

The next evening, it was business as usual with the music and dancing. Has no one in this godforsaken place heard of a decent period of mourning? Suddenly, one of the girls shrieked, claiming she had seen Marie's ghost in the dressing room. None of us had seen any ghosts but the girl was shaking and sobbing so badly that Madame Roget had to put a few drops of laudanum into her drink to calm her. We were all concerned that the incident had affected us more than we cared to admit. "Do you not care?" I asked Madame, demanding for answers. The other girls stared at us in shock.

"Of course I care," replied Madame coolly.

"Why you did not report it to the authorities?"

Madame merely shrugged. "It would be bad publicity… I cannot afford it."

I looked at her incredulously. "What about Marie? Did she not deserve justice? A fair trial?"

"There is nothing I can do… The prince has diplomatic immunity, which means no one can touch him."

"Oh, I see," I said contemptuously. "So he can do whatever he pleases without any consequences. Our lives are inconsequential, unimportant, is that it? What if he comes back here? Are you going to send one of us, to be sacrificed for his perverse pleasure?"

A hard slap landed on my cheek. By now the other girls had begun to whimper.

"Don't question my authority in this house, Meg! I could have you beaten and punished for your insolence!" Madame lashed out angrily and turned to Valmont. "Take her back to her room and lock her in until I decide what to do with her!"

Valmont said, "Come with me."

I stiffened in anger as Valmont dragged me back to my room roughly. "Let me go!" I cried as I wrenched my arm free of Valmont's grasp and threw him a look of contempt.

"Sit down," Valmont commanded.

I sat down on a chair sullenly.

Valmont said, "Madame has to make hard choices in her profession…"

"I don't understand how she could be so cold," I retorted.

Valmont sighed. "She works for her patron, a high government official who offers her the protection she needs to survive. Don't waste your strength fighting for the impossible," he told me. "Think about what I said and perhaps, tomorrow you will see things a little differently."

As soon as Valmont left my room, I rushed to the door only to find it locked and bolted from the outside. "No!" I cried out.

It was useless. I was trapped...

The next day, the door to my room became unlocked as Madame Roget appeared in a resplendent peach-colored dress but her blue eyes were cold and cruel.

"I have had the most interesting proposition this morning – an offer from the Baron d'Castellot- Barbezac," she smiled slyly. "He has bought and paid to spend the night with you. I had hoped not to present you until you were ready - there were other girls who were more versed in the art of giving pleasure but it seemed the Baron had been so enamored with you that he insisted to have you and only you. With such a fine offer of twenty thousand francs, it would be selfish of me not to agree."

Madame's punishment was swift and terrible. She hoped to break me by stripping me of my self-worth and dignity. After all, I was only a piece of merchandise, a thing to be used and sold at whim. I had no choice but to follow her orders until I could plan my escape.

"So be it," I replied dispassionately.

"Well said…The servants will be preparing you for this evening."

Hot water was poured into a large bronze bathtub and sprinkled with rose petals. I was stripped of my clothes and dipped into the tub. Fragrant waters warmed my skin, as the servants bathed and scrubbed me from head to toe.

After the bath, they dabbed my body with perfume. My eyelids were colored with sparkling powder and lips were painted a deep shade of red. Then they laced me up in a corset so tight that I could hardly breathe. I wore a dark green gown, a strapless piece with demure flowers and sequins ending in a long flowing train. My hair was piled on the head and adorned with glittering jewels whilst my ears were pierced with long crystal earrings. Near the door was a pair of high heeled studded shoes the servants had prepared for me. I slipped them on and stared at my reflection in the mirror with dread – tonight, I would lose my virginity to a total stranger or worse, end up like Marie.

Suddenly, a clap of hands sent the servants scurrying away. I turned around and saw Madame Roget staring with a crooked grin. "Put on a sweet smile for the baron… maybe this night will not be as bad as you fear…May I offer you a tip - the first secret of seduction is to know pleasure and give pleasure. Make him believe that he is the only man in the universe. You cannot be squeamish… if you don't enjoy it, they will know. Use your fingers, your mouth and tongue to tantalize the flesh."

Madame laughed as I turned away in disgust. "We must not keep the baron waiting… Valmont tells me that he is already here!"

Reluctantly, I followed Madame out to meet the man. We passed the hallway and entered one of the perfumed rooms that created just to meet clients. In the room, I saw a man standing by the window, looking out into the street below. The baron was a thin man with a receding hairline and serious manner.

"Your Grace," Madame said with a graceful curtsey while I stood behind her, eyeing him stonily.

"Oh, I'm not the Baron… My name is Gaston le'Febre, attorney at law. I'm here on behalf of my client, Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac," he quickly introduced himself to us.

Madame was intrigued. "I don't understand."

"My employer does not wish to be seen in a public place such as this and has requested that Mademoiselle Giry be brought to his apartment in Boulevard St. Germain," explained Gaston.

"The Baron's privacy is assured…Normally, I do not permit my girls to leave this house on such occasions."

Gaston ignored Madame's argument and said calmly, "The Baron is not a patient man. Mademoiselle Giry must be there by nine o'clock tonight."

"How do I know that his intentions are honorable and genuine?"

"My employer's intentions are not of your concern. He wants this girl and is prepared to meet your price and conditions whatsoever."

The man snapped his fingers to his assistant who brought a briefcase and it was full of cash. "Twenty thousand francs as agreed and any extra that you may incur to bring Mademoiselle to the Baron…"

Madame paused, her face impassive but her eyes glittered as she eyed the briefcase. "Twenty five thousand francs is my final price and Mademoiselle Giry must be escorted by one of my male servants. She will return to me in the morning the next day…"

My eyes widened in shock at the exorbitant price for one night – what man would want to spend that much for a night with a virgin?

Gaston seemed unperturbed as he reached into his coat, pulled out a wad of notes and dropped them into the briefcase. "This should be sufficient," he said and signaled to his assistant to pass the briefcase to Madame Roget.

The heavy silence was broken by the sudden opening of the doors. Valmont came in and murmured something in Madame's ear as she counted the cash in the briefcase. She nodded in acknowledgment.

"Put on your cloak…A carriage will be waiting outside in five minutes," said Madame to me. "Valmont shall accompany you to the apartment."

She turned to Gaston and said, "It has been a pleasure doing business with the Baron… Excuse me while I have another important meeting to attend."

As I walked back to my room to collect my cloak, I encountered a group of foreigners in the hallway. Their leader was a young man with a smooth face and piercing brown eyes. He was surrounded by three bodyguards wearing curved knives or scimitars in their belts. He laid eyes on me, staring unabashedly at my breasts. "Who are you?" he asked in a thick foreign accent.

Before I could answer, Madame came running towards us.

"Your Highness!" Madame said nervously with a low curtsey. "This is indeed a surprise… I wasn't expecting you this evening."

"Madame, you have been withholding your treasures from me," he commented in a soft menacing voice.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare, Your Highness! This is Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry, my newest addition," replied Madame Roget as she thrust me forward. I stumbled and fell at the nobleman's feet as they laughed. "This is Prince Kasim of Persia…"

The name sent chills down my spine. He was Marie's murderer!

"An exotic flower ripe for the taking," Prince Kasim murmured, as he reached out to caress my cheek. I shrank from his touch and looked away.

"She is on her way to a client's place," Madame quickly added and the prince seemed displeased with the news.

"Perhaps Madame should reconsider this arrangement…"

"Your Highness, I'm afraid I cannot rescind it…"

Then one of the bodyguards took out his curved scimitar and threatened Madame. "You dare refuse the prince!"

"No!" I screamed.

Madame calmly stood her ground and refused to yield to the threat. "I may not have the authority to remove you from this country, but at least I can order you out of my house! Valmont! Jules!"

Valmont and Jules quickly appeared with pistols brandished at the foreigners. The entire household soon gathered around them, courtesans, guests and servants, some even carried brooms and knives. Grossly outnumbered, the foreigners decided to leave. "This is not the end, Madame Roget," Prince Kasim said as he threw me a dirty look.

When they had gone, I turned to see Madame with newfound respect, for the first time I finally understood this trapped and complex woman.

"Thank you," I spluttered gratefully.

Madame Roget, a little exposed by her revealing statement, nodded and walked away, disappearing off into the long corridor. There would be consequences for insulting the prince, I was sure of it.

As the carriage rumbled to along the streets, I kept wondering if I had escaped death only to enter into a fate worse than hell itself by going to this elusive baron. No one had actually seen him and each person's description varied from the other – some said he was tall and thin, some said he was short and round, bald, blond, young, old, etc. It seemed that he was an enigma. Perhaps if I imagined him to be someone else while he made love to me, the experience would not be so bad...someone with kind eyes and a handsome face, someone like Armand. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and prayed for protection. _Please God, please don't let him hurt me_…

The carriage suddenly swerved into another street heading towards the outskirts of Paris. "Where are we going, Valmont? This is not the way to the Boulevard St. Germain," I said in puzzlement.

"We are not going to the Boulevard St. Germain," he replied. "I'm taking you to Prince Kasim…"

What?

I tried to open the carriage door and jump out but Valmont twisted me around to face him, digging his fingers into my bare shoulders. The narrow intensity of his gaze held me breathless with fear.

"You don't escape from old Valmont as easily as that. The prince has offered me a reward for your capture," he continued. "Be a good girl and I won't hurt you."

"Why have you betrayed Madame?" I asked, shaking in disbelief.

"After all I've done for her, loved her and worshiped her… She never thought of me other than just a servant, an employee! I'm tired of cleaning up her mess, being treated badly… she'll never expect this. Finally, my revenge is complete!"

"Please don't do this—" I pleaded, unable to wrench myself free from his iron grip.

"With the reward, I shall be rid of her forever!"

The carriage came to a halt in a secluded road with no lights. In the pale moonlight, I noticed that two dark coaches were already parked on the side. A footman appeared at the door and nodded to Valmont.

"It's time," said Valmont as I flinched. It was the moment that I had been dreading.

The occupants of one coach came out as Valmont dragged me out to hand me over to them. "For your efforts," said one of the bodyguards whom I recognized, as he tossed to Valmont a leather pouch.

My abductor poured out its contents – gold coins shone brightly as he smiled. "Thank the prince for me," Valmont said as he turned and walked away.

"No! Don't leave me, please! Help me…" I cried out as I sank into the wet and muddy ground in tears. The men hauled me towards the other waiting coach. The coach door opened and I saw its occupant.

"We meet again, Mademoiselle Giry," said Prince Kasim.

His bodyguards flung me into the carriage and closed the door. Prince Kasim leaned forward and took out a dagger from his jeweled belt. Then he drew the blinds across the windows. Taking hold of my arm, he forced me down onto the floor of the coach and straddled my body, pinning me underneath him. I cried out in pain as the coach rocked violently.

_Oh god, he was going to rape me…_

I began to fight with a savage desperation. He ripped my dress easily and with his dagger, he cut the strings of my corset.

"Do you realize the honor I'm about to do to you?" Kasim said as he took off his shirt, baring his chest. "The first taste shall be mine!"

"Enjoy our time together," he whispered delicately into my ear as his hips ground into mine. "I know you'll like it, too."

"No! Stop!" I choked out, crying out in protest as I felt his fingers slip under my skirts and touch me far too intimately.

Kasim laughed. "I can tell you like this. You're just like the other one… screaming no when you mean yes!"

"Murderer!"

Kasim hit me across my face. Breath expelled from my lungs in a painful gasp as I lay stunned.

"I'll make you beg for me," he snarled. Savagely, his mouth and hands roamed over my body. I pushed and clawed at him but he was too strong.

I watched him take off his pants. Still, I fought him, trying to push him off. My wandering fingers brushed a piece of cool metal and I grasped it, the dagger that he had used to cut my dress. He had left it lying carelessly on the seat.

"You will be mine," he whispered, forcing my legs apart.

"No!" I screamed out and brought the knife up, stabbing Kasim in the chest. Warm blood sprayed across my face as I watched a look of surprise cross his face. He gasped and fell over sideways as his hand clutched helplessly at his chest. I sank the dagger into his stomach over and over again until his blood covered my hands. I stared at his mutilated body without remorse or revulsion. There were three other men outside, his bodyguards who were oblivious of their master's death. I was not afraid anymore… I would kill them all…

It was quiet as I reached out a bloodied hand to open the door. Stumbling out of the coach I saw that the three men were already dead, so were the coach drivers. _What the-? How did they die?_

I was so wrapped up in my own terror that I did not hear the footsteps behind me. "Meg," said a vaguely familiar voice.

Instinctively, I turned around to attack the intruder with my dagger. I hadn't recognized who it was until he wrenched the dagger from my hands. "It's me, Erik."

I stood perfectly still as I looked up at the dark and towering shadow in front of me – a humble student at the feet of the Angel of Death. His voice drew me out of the haze of blood that I was drowning in.

"E… Erik?" I stammered, reeling in shock.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I could not reply, my thoughts an untidy jumble. Removing his cloak, he wrapped my near naked body. Erik sighed, with a kind of weary patience. "We have to hurry. Can you walk?"

I just nodded as he lifted me up effortlessly in his arms and set me on his horse. He climbed up behind me and beat his horse into a full gallop towards the city. How did he know where I was? Did he kill the prince's bodyguards? Questions buzzed in my head as I leaned back, tired, soft and pliant against Erik's chest. A strange calm coursed through my being, I felt protected and safe there. His grip on the reins tightened as he guided his horse through the slums of Paris until we reached his underground lair. All this while, he was silent as we entered his bedroom.

Erik reached into a drawer and pulled out a towel. "Use this to wipe off the bloodstains," he instructed. "You should change into these clothes…"

I turned and stared at the neatly folded dress on the bed - it looked like a traveling trousseau. "Where are we going?" I finally asked, a semblance of rational thought had returned.

"We are leaving Paris…"

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Alone in Erik's bedroom, I began to peel off my grimy, blood soaked clothing when I realized the stinging cuts and bruises sustained from fighting off Kasim. I let out a sharp gasp as part of my dress got stuck to a wet wound on my shoulder. Tears came to my eyes as I ground my teeth against the pain and tore off the skin. Suddenly, I heard a nervous cough behind me and I swiftly turned around. "Erik," I said and seeing him standing there, my hands instinctively covered my chest with a wrapper.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked quietly. "I came to see how you're doing… Did that bastard hurt you?"

"I wasn't raped," I told him. "Not that he didn't try…"

My voice trailed off into silence. I could see his silent outrage; his steely gaze and jaw tight as if he recalled a terrible tragedy in his past. With a sigh, he suddenly remembered the purpose of his presence.

"I have a jar of ointment… my own concoction. It will help to reduce the bruising," he said haltingly. "May I take a look?"

I was surprised that he showed concern for me and I nodded. Wordlessly, I turned away from him and removed my chemise, baring my back and shoulders to his scrutiny. I could feel his eyes on my bare back as he opened the jar and gently rubbed the salve on my bruises.

The cold salve touched my feverish skin and I let out a hiss. When his hands smoothed over my arms and shoulders, I realized how close he stood behind me. Calloused fingers made my skin tingle with its warmness. My heartbeat quickened when his hands dipped slightly below the waistband of my skirt. Instinctively, my muscles tensed as I broke away from him and scurried into a dark corner.

"I'm sorry...Did I hurt you?" he asked, slightly alarmed.

It was perfectly innocent but my heart was filled with strange conflicting emotions - fear, anger, desire..._Stop it! _I chided myself. I so do not want to go there right now, especially after what Kasim had done to me. The attack had left bruises on my thighs and hips, marks of Kasim's aggression but I couldn't let Erik see them. I turned back to Erik and smiled faintly.

"No but I think I'll be able to manage on my own," I blabbered awkwardly.

Erik made no comment.

I was feeling uneasy with the silence that had engulfed us. Somehow, I wished he hadn't come in. Did he want something from me?

"Here take the jar," he said at length, putting the jar on the bedside table. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will and… thank you," I mumbled gratefully.

After he had gone out, I sank down on the bed and sighed. I had been getting very mixed feelings about this man whom my very instincts told me to avoid.

The water in the basin turned a shade of crimson as I wiped away all traces of blood from my face. My hands were still shaking as I stripped off the rest of my torn clothing and changed into the dress that Erik had prepared for me.

"The police will be searching for us in the morning," Erik said grimly as I appeared from his room, clean and dressed. He collected my soiled clothes and burned them, erasing all traces of the crime that I had committed. Then he picked up a small bag and held out his hand to me in a civil gesture.

"We are going to the Boulevard St. Germain first," he said.

Immediately, I stiffened. That name was firmly etched in my mind, a grim reminder of what I had almost become. Sensing my hesitance, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"I don't want to go there," I said at last, burning with shame. "It was… it is where… I…I…"

"—where you were going to meet Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac," he finished my sentence.

I gaped at him – how did he know these things?

"The baron does not exist… I made him up," he revealed. "I came at your mother's request… to save you from the dire conditions of your existence. I understand the childish act of sacrifice for the love of a mother. Perhaps, your mother was more worthy than mine."

It was the first time Erik had spoken about his past, a life before the opera house. Did his mother hate him? Why did he speak of his mother this way?

Somehow, Maman had managed to speak to Erik and had asked for his help. I was a little troubled that she never told me about it.

"So I invented a blue blood title, knowing how Paris loved aristocrats," he snickered. "And hired a local lawyer to represent me…"

It was all a deliberate plan to move me out of Madame's clutches. There was no Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac, there was only Erik. Obviously, he did not trust Madame Roget and had followed me from Madame's place. When he saw that Valmont had changed his destination, he had sprung into action, killing the prince's bodyguards and the drivers. However, there was still the matter of the huge sum of twenty five thousand francs that he had paid to secure my release. Somehow, I felt responsible for his loss...

"I've accumulated enough wealth to last me past my death. I wouldn't fret on a mere twenty five thousand francs," he said, answering my silent question. "Come, we must leave at once..."

We emerged from the underground passages to find a brougham waiting for us. Everything appeared normal and quiet on this familiar street. Like two ordinary people on a night out, we climbed into the brougham and traveled to Boulevard St. Germain.

"I thought you had left Paris," I murmured, remembering the night that I had angrily chased him from my flat.

"There was unfinished business that I had to attend to," he said without elaborating further and I could not help but wonder if he meant me.

Guiltily, I turned away in silence. I truly felt awful about the way things had turned out, after all, he had saved me. We did not speak again until the brougham arrived at the apartment.

"Go to the apartment on the first floor… You will find your mother there waiting for you," Erik said solemnly.

My eyes grew wide with amazement. "Maman is here?"

At that moment, my heart swelled with so much happiness and hope, a shining spot in my dark existence. I would have wanted Erik to tell me how he had managed to get my mother out of the hospital, but it didn't matter now. All I wanted was for her to be safe.

He nodded grimly. "There is a carriage waiting to take the both of you to the French-German border. You will be safe once you cross over to the other side," he told me.

"I... I don't know what to... say," I stammered, breathless with anticipation. I never dreamed that Maman and I could start a new life together, away from Paris. We now had our chance, all thanks to Erik.

Erik shook his head. "You don't have to say anything, Meg. Consider this as a form of repayment for your mother's kindness to me."

I stared at him with eyes swimming in tears of joy. "_Au revoir_, Erik," I said with a heartfelt tug in my chest. "... and thank you."

"_Au revoir_, Meg Giry," he replied, watching me leave with a strange, almost thoughtful expression. I wished I could say something to make things better but I couldn't. Maybe it was better this way.

Without hesitation, I scrambled through the lobby and ran up the stairs to the surprise of the nightwatchman. Knocking frantically on the door of the apartment, I cried, "Maman, open the door! It's me… Meg!"

The door slowly opened and Maman appeared, looking pale and scared. "Meg," she said with a trembling voice.

"Maman, what's wrong?" I asked in surprise.

Before she could answer, a large hand struck out and cupped her mouth, dragging her inside. Instinctively, I rushed in to save my mother from her attacker. He tossed Maman aside like a rag doll and turned on me, pulling out a gun. "Meg Giry," said Valmont. "I never thought you had it in you…"

"Please, please don't hurt us…I'll do anything you say," I begged. Valmont was in a terrible mood, his face contorted with misery and rage. We were totally in his mercy.

Maman intervened. "Leave her alone…"

"Shut up, woman!" roared Valmont. "I returned to the scene and saw the massacre… the prince and his henchmen are dead! The only strange thing was that your body was missing... The police will be looking for the murderers and I will become a prime suspect naturally, unless I give them the real perpetrators of this heinous crime…"

My breath got caught in my throat. "I… I don't know what you mean."

"You could not have killed all those men alone…Tell me the name of your collaborator!"

"I don't know! I don't know!" I cried out, cowering from him.

"You lying minx! If I'm going down for this, I'll bring you with me!" Valmont threatened as he lunged forward and grabbed my shoulders. "Come along now… I'm sure the police will love to hear your story!"

"No!" Maman rushed in between us as she tried to pry his hands off me. In the ensuing struggle, Valmont pushed me aside and his gun went off in a loud explosion. The smell of burned powder, bitter and acrid, filled my nostrils. It happened so quickly - Maman's eyes went wide as she let go and slumped to the ground, blood spurting from her abdomen. My heart stopped.

"Maman!" I screamed in terror as I rushed to my mother and held her. I did not care if Valmont shot me too.

Shocked, Valmont fell back and stared at what he had done. Before he could flee, a lasso looped around his thick neck and his head jerked back unnaturally. He was dead as his body went slack. Standing behind Valmont was Erik – he dragged the man's body aside and retrieved his deadly weapon. Erik came and knelt down beside Maman.

"I am too late," he said with a sigh, his golden eyes taking in the sight of my dying mother.

Maman shook her head. "Erik, you saved my little Meg… I cannot ask for more…"

Then she turned to me and whispered lovingly, "Meg, leave me…you have to go with Erik now…"

"Maman, I won't leave you…" I wept hysterically. "I'll get the doctor… You will be all right… You have to!"

She coughed and convulsed. "Promise me!"

Numbed with grief, I nodded.

"Remember I love you, Meg…"

_Please hold on a little longer_, I begged silently. _Don't leave me yet…_

Memories of my childhood stabbed at my heart – times when she held me and kissed me. Now it was my turn to bend down and place a kiss on her cold cheek one last time. Maman smiled weakly and closed her eyes, finally at peace. Her heart beat no more. I heard Erik's ragged, sobbing curse as he took Maman's lifeless body from my arms and laid her gently on the bed. I did not turn. I would go mad if I looked so I continued to kneel on the floor, staring at the pool of blood. I had no strength left, no desire to live…

Time and place had ceased to have meaning. The silence was shattered by loud banging on the door, voices of men demanding entry. They had heard the gunshot.

Somewhere far away, Erik's voice seeped into my mind. "Meg, it is time to go…"

My body refused to move, my mind frozen. _I cannot go on without Maman…_

Suddenly, the windows of the apartment opened - a gust of wind made me gaze up. Beyond them was a path leading to a world of fantasy, a wondrous kaleidoscope of colors, filled with magic and mystery. Tiny little fairy lights seemed to light the way out. Soon the two worlds of reality and fantasy seemed to merge – it frightened yet intrigued me, drawing me from the cesspool of misery. One of the lights settled on my hand like a snowflake. I stared at it in awe and soon forgot my sorrow. Little by little, I began to abandon my senses.

_Come with me…_

Our flight from the apartment in Boulevard St. Germain remained a mystery – staircases and rooftops we ascended, slipping into the cover of stars and down to the alleys below. On the grass of the Royal Gardens, a winged dragon magically appeared in the moonlight. It lifted us high above the clouds and carried me away from reality. It felt wonderful, flying through the infinite soft haze and light mist. This life that had passed me by so quickly was one of sorrow and wrong twists and turns. Carry me away… carry me away…

How wonderful it would be to live in that world of fantasy and abandon this cruel life but it was not meant to last. I lay still in a little hut, lulled by the sea; soft tiny waves of the morning tide crashed on the shore. I didn't care where I was – all I wanted was to lie in this decrepit hut and die. Maman was gone now but the consequences of actually accepting her death had been too terrible for me to even consider believing it. I had somehow convinced myself that my mother had never really left me, that she was still there by my side. And that comforted me. For a while…

But nothing could alter the sheer reality of the fact that Maman was dead. It was so tremendously true and could never be undone. I took a sharp intake of breath, my shoulders slouched as if the weight of the world was bearing down upon me. I missed her, missed her so badly!

Outside the hut, I heard a violin play a tune – soft, vibrant notes danced through the air. It was Erik's tribute to Maman's life - a requiem. I could not hold back the tears that came streaming down, my body wracked with huge sobs as I mourned for my mother.

The first reddish light of dawn began to creep into the hut. I got up from my bed and went to the window, staring blankly at the horizon. Ships of all shapes and sizes bobbed silently in the sea as if they danced to the rhythm of nature. _Your world is about to change…_Maman once told me.

I had lost my mother, my dreams, my friends, everything..._ What could the world possibly throw at me now? _

Footsteps crunched the gravel indicating that someone had come, shattering my solitude as I jerked away from the window and stared at Erik. It was no surprise that he was the one that conjured up the magical world of dragons and fairy lights – it was all an illusion to lure me away to safety. If it hadn't been for Erik, I would have been captured by the police and thrown into prison, awaiting execution for the crime that I had committed. _Why didn't he just leave?_

"I wish to be left alone," I told him tiredly.

"I'm afraid that's impossible…The steamship will depart for America in an hour," said Erik as he picked up my coat and handed it to me. "You are coming with me…"

The prospect of being tossed about in the middle of the ocean for weeks did not bode well with me but I knew I could not stay in France any longer. I was a fugitive on the run, just like Erik. Our fates had intertwined. Without another word, I took my coat and followed him.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much for all your encouraging reviews! xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Erik had had it all planned as he explained it to me in a small cafeteria. The place was so packed with people that no one noticed a masked man and a young woman sitting together in a dimly lit corner of the room. According to his plan, I would use his ticket that he had purchased earlier while he would find another way to get into the steamship without arousing the suspicions of the ship's crew. The huge mooring lines were perfect for him to smuggle into the ship unseen.

"Here are your papers… You will need them when you board the ship."

I stared at the badly scrawled name on the ticket, "_Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac_". Beneath Erik's cool expression, I could sense the irritation and impatience roiling within him – I wasn't supposed to be here. It should have been a simple task of boarding the ship until I came along, a liability, a dead weight dragging him down when he should be freed of his past, freed of me…

"Is that all?" I asked with barely concealed resentment. _Well, I didn't ask to be here! He could just leave and be done with me on numerous occasions. Did he expect to take care of me? Oh, please…_

Erik was surprised by my angry remark. "Have I said something to upset you?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied curtly. "If you don't want me with you, just say so…"

He did not look at me as he spoke. "It isn't that… it's simply that I'm accustomed to being alone."

There! he finally said it - he didn't want me around any more than I want him by my side. "I should leave..."

Erik was shocked by my decision. "What?"

"I'm leaving you, Erik," I repeated clearly.

"Where will you go?" he demanded.

His question made me pause and rethink my decision. Where could I go? There was no one else in France who would take me in. I was a fugitive and a murderer. "Why does it matter to you?"I asked, ignoring his question.

I began to rise from my seat and leave when he caught my arm.

"Stop!" he said suddenly. "I made a promise to your mother… that I would look out for you…"

"Fine!" I retorted and grabbed the papers from the table and deliberately walked off in a huff. I didn't want any of this!

I moved through the morning crowd, weaving between vehicles and handcarts, hurrying passengers and well-wishers. Looking up I saw the hull of the steamship, the French liner "La Gascogne" loomed over us...a great iron wall, black and severe. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward the gangway for first class passengers.

The ship's officer glanced at my ticket and checked it against the passenger list. "It appears that there was a mistake in the list," he said, smiling apologetically. "Welcome aboard, Madame _Baroness_ d'Castellot Barbezac."

I nodded stiffly and entered the open deck. All of a sudden, the scream of police sirens warned the crowd of their presence. I went to the railing and looked down - dozens of policemen were deployed everywhere. They were looking for something or someone and my first concern was for Erik. Did he make it into the ship? There was no sign of him anywhere. Suddenly, I realized that in my sorrow, I had failed to see that Erik was hurting too and it took a huge sacrifice on his part to make that promise to my mother. I just couldn't shake off the feeling that I was beholden to him and it bothered me.

A cheer went up on the pier at Le Havre as the ship weighed anchor and began sailing away from the quay. As I had no one to wave to at the pier, I decided to walk down a narrow corridor below to search for my cabin. There were doors lining both sides of the corridor and total confusion as people argued over luggage in several languages, or simply wandered in confusion in the labyrinth. A helpful porter agreed to escort me to my designated cabin. Unlocking the door, he showed me inside the elegantly furnished room – the accommodation was cozy with polished fixtures and fittings that shone brightly against the warm wood-paneled interior. In the middle of the room, a large bed, crisp bed linen and warm blankets welcomed me while an elegant in-cabin wash basin and modern lavatory were tastefully obscured from view by a frosted glass partition. Erik had ensured that his journey to America was lavish and comfortable.

When the porter had gone, I sank down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to think. If Erik hadn't boarded the ship then I would be all alone. I was suddenly lost without him. What would I do while on this ship? How would I fill the bleak and empty days? After everything that I had been through, I was sapped of all initiative to go out and enjoy myself. What do I do now?

No one would even bother about a young lady passenger on this massive ship, until perhaps when the ship docked in America and then they would find the lady, already a decaying corpse lying on the bed inside the room. I would then be buried with the name "Mme. Baroness d'Castellot-Barbezac", which was the name scratched and rewritten on the passenger list, not Meg Giry…forever lost in a foreign land.

My morbid thoughts were interrupted when suddenly, my eyes caught a flicker of a shadow from behind a corner of the obscured glass, the section of the room most distant from me, there was a shape. Someone was there.

"Erik? Is that you?" I said nervously.

"Yes, it is me," Erik replied as he appeared from behind the partition, studying me calmly in the half light. "I hope you'll find the accommodation suitable."

Immediately, I was flushed with a sense of relief but was determined not to show it. "You're late," I told him impertinently. "I thought you had second thoughts about leaving!"

"The thought did occur to me… more than once," he remarked, looking out the window. "But then, I thought about you in your present condition, you would rather die slowly and painfully, of starvation and loneliness on this ship."

I looked up sharply at him – had he been reading my thoughts? Was I such a pitiful sight that he thought I was incapable of surviving alone on this ship? Whatever his reasons for boarding the ship, whether it was some spurious notion of chivalry or pity, I did not care anymore…

"The ship will arrive in New York in approximately ten days, if weather permits. I thought I should speak to you first about our short stay on board," Erik said.

Yes, there was the important question of our sleeping arrangements. This was after all Erik's room and I was trespassing. The memory of the twenty five thousand francs that Erik had paid Madame Roget still burned in my mind – a sick, terrified certainty dawned unto me, I belonged to him to do as he pleased. I stared at the huge bed before me and resignedly, I began to undress, starting from the pearl buttons of my collar.

He turned away from the window. "What are you..?"

Erik's voice tailed off as the dress slid down my shoulders, exposing my body to his gaze. His eyes, however, stayed focused on my face. I could tell he was shocked and perplexed – Wasn't this what he meant when he referred to our stay on this ship, in this room and in this bed?

"I'm sorry… I think you misunderstand me," he said as he stepped forward and delicately put back the dress on me. "I was going to inform you that you can have this room. There are plenty of places on this ship for me to find a place to rest."

I was stunned, entirely incapable of making any coherent reply as I hastily covered myself. I could not ask him to find rest in some dark corner of the ship, or lie in between crates of goods and livestock! It was unacceptable and inhuman to treat anyone like that! As he was about to leave, I called out, "Wait!"

"This room is large enough for the both of us…"

My voice was barely a whisper but I knew he had heard me. There was an awkward silence. Never in my life have I so boldly offered to stay with a man in such close quarters! What insanity had prompted me to say it? I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath for his answer.

"Thank you for the generous offer, Meg. But you are not in the right state of mind now to know what you're doing. I will not intrude into your privacy anymore," he replied without turning back and walked out the door.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

I had no desire to leave the cabin, afraid of what I might encounter out there. In my solitude, I tried to pray but the harder I prayed, the less hope I had of being heard. God would not hear me now, after what I had done. Each time I closed my eyes, the nightmares were vivid and terrifying – I relived that night over and over. There was blood everywhere. Only the loud drumming of the ship's engines drowned out my anguished screams. I wished they would stop but no matter what I did, I could not escape the prison of my conscience. Nothing could save my damned soul now.

_Wake up… wake up, now...Meg Giry…_

My eyes blinked open. "Maman?"

I heard Maman's voice, it was her! But I was alone in the room.

_Meg… Meg… Come over here… _

The voice seemed to come through the door. Blindly and in desperation, I tore out of my room…

"Maman! Wait! Where are you?" I called out.

My tear-stained face and disheveled looks must have startled a few passengers as I rushed past them along the corridor. The brightness of the morning sun and the warm ocean breeze hit me in the face as I burst out into the deserted deck. It was so surreal. Momentarily dazed, I stumbled uncertainly towards the rails, looking forward across the Atlantic, staring into the sun's sparkles on the horizon.

Gripping the rails, I looked down into the foaming waters. Nothing could survive the dizzying drop. All I had to do was to climb over and let go… Suicide seemed like the only way out, it was easy to let go of the meaningless life I led, unless I was brought up here for a reason. Trembling, I closed my eyes and cried out silently, _Maman, if you can hear me…Please show me a sign!_

Suddenly, in the glassy bow-wave two dolphins appeared, under the water, running fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow. They jumped with sheer joy and exultation of motion as I watched them crisscrossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the ship. Then, I heard Maman's voice in my head…

_This is life, Meg Giry…Life to the fullest!_

Stretching out my arms like a sun worshipper, I embraced the warmth of the rays, burning away the guilt and fear that had gripped me for so long – a purification by fire, rejuvenating my dulled senses and reviving my drooping spirit. Slowly, I was letting go of my past.

"Whatever you're thinking, dear… don't!" a voice said in halting French.

I blinked a few times as my vision was blurred by the tears, focusing on a large woman in her mid-forties standing near me. She must have noticed my puzzled look as she repeated, "Please don't jump!"

"But I'm not…"

I stopped myself. Suddenly, I realized how I must have looked to her – a sad and desolate woman standing near the rails of the ship. "I'm not about to jump into the sea," I told her calmly.

"Good," she said with a sigh of relief. "Take my hand...don't be afraid…"

Her grip was firm and comforting as she led me to the empty bench. "Here, have some tea, dear. It will make you feel better," she said kindly.

"Thank you."

As I was sipping my tea, I spotted a familiar shadow on the upper deck. It disappeared in a flash. Had Erik been watching over me? I frowned.

"I'm Clara Morgan. Do you have a name?" the woman said. Clara wore a beautiful yellow gown with lace trimmings, indicating to her wealth. She looked like a trustworthy person but at the same time, I was suspicious of everyone.

"Meg… "

Clara smiled. "Meg…I have not seen you in any of the restaurants, library or the games rooms since we disembarked. Which deck is your cabin?"

"On B deck… What day is today?" I asked her.

"It's the 4th of July. Don't you remember? We left Le Havre a week ago!"

_What?_

I was shocked – I had been hiding in my room for seven days, separated from the world outside. It seemed strange that I had only vague memories of each passing day, like Sleeping Beauty in the fairytale, caught in a spell of endless night. Then I began to recall how food and water had magically appeared by my bedside table every day and a figure hovering anxiously nearby without a word.

_Oh, Erik... _I sighed internally. He had been right- I would have starved myself to death alone on this ship._  
_

"Thank you for the tea but I… I have to go." I rose and excused myself. As I turned to leave, I nearly ran into a tall gentleman with piercing eyes and wispy gray hair. "Pardon me, Monsieur…" I apologized.

"Pardon me," he replied, giving me a curious stare and then turned to Clara. "Madame Morgan, I was hoping to catch you at tea in the salon but I was told that you were here."

Clara smiled in return. "You came just in time, Jacques."

Turning to me, she said, "Please join us, Meg… I insist… Jacques Henri is an Inspector with the French Police…"

Color drained from my face as I instinctively took a step back. My mind was frantically searching for an escape route, an excuse, anything to get away from him and I must warn Erik. Clara did not notice my discomfort but it did not escape Jacques, who eyed me with interest.

"Mademoiselle?"

"M…Madame, actually… Madame Barbezac," I stammered, assuming the identity of the Baroness. I didn't want him to know my real name. Haltingly, I sat down again with Clara and Jacques – if I had fled from them, I would've aroused the Inspector's suspicions.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were married!" exclaimed Clara. "Where is your husband? Is he here with you?"

I wasn't quite sure how to answer that question as my mind tried to piece together a believable story of my so-called life.

Jacques raised one eyebrow. "Ah! We have a newlywed in our midst!"

"Really? How do you know?" Clara said, throwing him a challenge.

"Madame Barbezac is very young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, a marriageable age for most girls… the wedding ring is conspicuously missing and her finger does not yet bear the imprint of a ring as most married women do," he observed coolly.

Hastily, I covered my left hand and mumbled that I had forgotten to wear it this morning. "It's… it's very heavy…"

Clara laughed. "I remember my husband gave me this huge ugly ring, a family heirloom on our wedding day… I swear if I wore it now, I would sink right to the bottom of the ocean! So I insisted that he bought me another one on our honeymoon in Italy."

"It's very pretty," I mused as she flaunted the diamond ring on her finger.

"Tell me, Meg… Are you on your honeymoon?" asked Clara and I nodded mechanically, avoiding Jacques stare.

"It's my first time out of the country…"

"Oh, how exciting for you! New York is so different from Paris, you'll see…I'm on my way to visit my son who is studying at Yale University," Clara informed.

I nodded and turned to Jacques. "And you, Monsieur Henri?"

"A little bit of business and pleasure," he replied vaguely. "Tell me, Madame Barbezac, what does your husband do?"

All eyes were fixed on me as I gave a helpless shrug. "I'm only a girl with little education. I hardly know anything about my husband's business or investments."

"Well, maybe we can ask him during dinner at the Trident Ballroom tonight," suggested Clara. "Both you and your husband will be attending, right?"

What?

"I'm afraid that would not be possible… It's really very embarrassing. You see, my luggage has been misplaced and I have nothing suitable to wear this evening," I explained.

"You poor thing!" said Clara sympathetically. "You must feel awful… This unfortunate incident can be easily rectified at least, until the porters locate your missing luggage, you can borrow my clothes… Come with me."

Like a woman with a mission, Clara stood up and wished Jacques Henri farewell before marching me to her room. Soon her bed was strewn with all her gowns of various colors and fabrics. She was much larger than me and most of her dresses did not fit my small frame. "Ah, try this one," Clara said, pulling out a white shimmery gown with short puffed sleeves and a train, still in pristine condition. "This used to be my engagement party dress… now, I'm giving it to my niece in Vermont. She is about your age."

"I cannot possibly borrow this," I said, overwhelmed by her generosity. I wasn't even sure I wanted to attend this formal dinner. With Inspector Henri there, it would feel like stepping into a snake pit.

"You will look fabulous in that dress, Meg," she was adamant and I went away with the dress and matching gloves and jewelry. _If only I hadn't stepped out of my room_, I thought miserably. _What have I got myself into?_

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: It's going to be an exciting voyage for Meg!xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The evening was cool as I walked towards the Trident Ballroom. Drifting strains of classical music could be heard from inside. A steward bows and smartly opened the door for me.

"Good evening, Madame…"

Only a few minutes ago, I was sitting in my cabin, dressed in the shimmery white gown that Clara had lent me, nervously rolling the white gloves in my hands. I didn't want to go as I knew that people would inquire about my 'non-existent' husband. And yet, if I didn't, Clara would be deeply disappointed and Inspector Henri would start prowling around the ship, asking questions and making notes. It was only a question of time before he pieced together the mystery and unearthed the truth about me. My sense of unease increased steadily.

_It is only a performance…_

The little voice in my head told me and I knew I had to go on. Playing the role smoothly, I nodded to the steward and stepped in. My breath was taken away by the splendor spread out before me. Overhead was the enormous blue glass dome, with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down towards the ballroom proper was the Grand Staircase, lined with red carpeting. And the people: the women in their floor-length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry... the gentlemen in evening attire, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly. How was I going to do this alone?

Presently, a voice behind me said, "Why look so glum, Meg?"

My head swiveled to Erik as he came and stood beside me. He looked dashing in his black-tie outfit, right down to his pearl cufflinks. His half- mask gleamed as he surveyed the ballroom.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm here because you are here…Come, my dear. Let's give them something to talk about, shall we?" he said calmly, offering his gloved hand to me. Erik chose to expose himself in such a brazen manner that I was visibly alarmed – it reminded me of a time not too long ago where he had chosen to reveal himself to the public only to be betrayed by the love of his life. It was too late now – I had become the unwilling supporting actor in this theatrical piece of his, not daring to contemplate how it would all end.

I extended my hand and he took it, kissing the back of my fingers. My cheeks flamed, I couldn't take my eyes off him as he boldly guided me down the staircase. A hush fell in the ballroom as we descended the stairs. Several men nodded a perfunctory greeting and Erik nodded back, keeping it simple. Some of the women gasped when they saw the mask. Erik ignored their stares and carried on with an air of arrogance and disdain. We walked to the dance floor.

"May I have this dance?" Erik said as he turned to me.

"Of course," I managed with a shy smile.

He opened his arms and I gracefully stepped into them. We danced to the sweeping strains of the waltz, our bodies close, his gloved hand holding tightly to mine while the other on the small of my back. Erik was an excellent dancer - I began to wonder how he knew how to dance as he had always been alone. It was until later that I realized Erik had been surveying the surroundings and the people. He was only using the dance as a guise. As we swirled around the floor, he leaned in close, pointing out several nobles, bankers, artists and merchants. I was astonished to how well he knew them.

"I've had the pleasure of observing some of the passengers on board this ship in my free time," Erik explained. "Most of them are harmless…"

The way he spoke of humans in general was very unsettling. It was as though he did not include himself within the species at all. A shiver passed through my body as I wondered what he thought of me.

Then, I spotted Madame Morgan and Inspector Henri seated in a corner of the room.

"That's Inspector Henri of the French police," I whispered to Erik a warning and felt his arm stiffen around my waist.

"Ah, I see you have met him…We should go over and say hello to our new friends," he said tightly.

Inspector Henri's eyes widened in surprise as Clara came forward to greet us. "Meg, I'm so glad you made it… You look absolutely stunning!" she beamed but she was quite at a loss for words when she saw Erik.

"Madame Morgan… Inspector Henri… this is _my husband_ Erik, Baron d'Castellot-Barbezac," I introduced them, feeling terribly awkward. Erik's visible eyebrow arched in bemusement at the term I used.

"It is indeed a pleasure, Madame Morgan… Inspector Henri," he said courteously. "Please call me, Erik."

The older woman was noticeably charmed as she asked us to share the dining table with them. Dinner was soon served – an impressive menu of seafood, ducks, pigeons, turkey, veal, soups and salads, topped off with chocolate and ice cream for dessert.

"I've never seen you on board since we departed from Le Havre," said Jacques, scooping a spoonful of soup. "It's as if you appeared out of thin air…"

"This is a big ship, Inspector," Erik pointed out. "Besides, my wife was unwell. She is unaccustomed to the sea… I was by her side."

"Of course." Jacques seemed satisfied with the answer.

"I hope you are feeling much better now, Meg," said Clara sympathetically.

"Yes, very much… thank you," I replied as Clara's husband, Charles joined us at the table.

"I'm curious as to how you came to wear a mask," he noted.

"An unfortunate riding accident on my estate," Erik replied. "I sustained minor facial injuries and was advised by my doctor to wear a mask for a few weeks to prevent an infection."

"Was that the way of it?" Jacques asked, turning to me.

I merely affirmed it with a nod.

"_My wife_ was very worried about my condition but I assured her that it would heal soon," added Erik as he reached out his hand across the table and placed it over mine in a gesture of intimacy. He turned his intense gaze to me as he said, "She will eventually have her handsome husband back."

Going along with the game, I smiled back affectionately.

"So what is your occupation, Erik, apart from riding?"

Jacques persistent questioning caused Erik much irritation as he downed his red wine a little too quickly. I could hear the annoyance in Erik's voice as he reigned in his explosive temper.

"If you must know, I am a contractor, Inspector. The end of the American Revolution sparked an increase in construction contracts in the States. In fact, I'm on my way there to oversee my investments and at the same time, bringing my wife for a visit…"

"Jacques, you should leave the 'men talk' to the Smoking Room," Clara admonished gently.

"Of course, Clara… Perhaps, you will be interested to hear about the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera, a masked man and a fire that was never fully explained…"

Jacques was staring at Erik as if he was baiting him for some kind of reaction. But Erik was no fool - he had seen through the ruse that Jacques had set for him.

"Ooh, pray tell us!" exclaimed Clara, pressing a hand to her chest. "I love a mysterious tale…"

"Yes, do tell us," echoed Erik.

Jacques nodded grimly as he proceeded with his version of the story. "It all began with the death of one Joseph Buquet. He was found in the third cellar, hanging between a farm-house and a scene from the _Roi De Lahore_…"

As Jacques expounded his theory about a Phantom and the connection to the mysterious and dramatic kidnapping of Christine Daae, the disappearance of the Vicomte de Chagny and the death of his elder brother, Count Philippe, whose body was found on the bank of the lake that exists in the lower cellars of the Opera on the Rue-Scribe side. My heart was pounding loudly as I squirmed in my seat. Jacques' version of the story was too close for comfort.

"I believe that the Phantom was not a ghost but of flesh and blood. Eye witnesses said that he was extraordinarily thin. His eyes were so deep that you could hardly see the fixed pupils. You just see two big black holes, as in a dead man's skull. His skin, stretched across his bones like a drumhead, is not white, but a nasty decaying yellow. He did not have a nose and all the hair he has is three or four long dark locks on his forehead and behind his ears," he concluded with quiet certainty.

"Surely, this Phantom could be a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge," offered Erik, as he listened intently to the inspector's theories. His expression was calm and unaffected, almost as if he was enjoying the situation. I did not find this the least bit amusing.

"We have evidence that points to the contrary, Erik. There was a person living underneath the Opera House… we found his hiding place, a magnificent piece of architecture, sadly now in ruins but it all points to the fact that the Phantom was not a ghost."

"Do you know where he could be now?" Monsieur Morgan asked.

"Ah, I wish I knew. When digging in the substructure of the Opera, the workmen laid bare a corpse thought to be a victim of the Commune but no one can be sure if he is still alive," replied Jacques.

"This is indeed a compelling story, Jacques," said Clara.

"Well, it is late and we should retire to our cabin. Good night, Clara… Jacques," Erik said, rising from his seat. I quickly followed.

As we made our way back to the cabin, Erik murmured to me, "Inspector Henri has been following the case closely. I must admit that he has a very vivid description of me!"

I was aghast. "Do you think he knows?"

"I think he has his suspicions…"

My heart was filled with dread. "I'm… I'm… frightened."

"I will take care of it…"

"What do you mean?" I asked uneasily. "Erik, please promise me that you will not harm him."

He did not speak. I dared not think of what he would do to Jacques Henri but these killings must stop!

"If not on your conscience, then let it be mine," I told him quietly, pressing home the point.

"If you wish…"

I nodded, satisfied that he would not cast aside lightly the pledge he had made to me. Still I worried over Jacques' persistent questioning as it could potentially set off Erik's explosive temper. I prayed that day would never come.

As we reached my cabin, I turned to Erik and said, "It is still very hard for me to accept that Maman is gone…sometimes I feel… I feel like she is still here with me…"

Erik looked down and sighed. "She will always be in your heart… in your dreams."

There was a long pause. It wasn't until the words were out that I realized I felt a kindred spirit with him – we both lost the ones we loved. Yes, Maman would always be in my heart just as Christine would always be in his…

"So what happens now?" I asked in unthinking absence.

"We have to keep up appearances until we reach New York…" he replied and bowed before leaving. "Good night, Meg."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Ribbons of sunlight had filtered through the window above me, illuminating my cabin – it was morning. I blinked a few times before stretching out on my bed. It was time I returned the dress to Madame Morgan, I decided as I got up. To my surprise, Clara insisted that I kept it. "My niece probably has a gown for her debutante ball already," she said. "I noticed how your husband kept staring at you the whole evening…"

_He is not my husband!_ I wanted to protest but I clamped my mouth and forced a smile instead.

We were greeted by a large crowd that had gathered there and right in the middle of the circle was Erik – he was regaling them with stories of his travels to exotic lands and adventures. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black trousers and boots, looking relaxed and enjoying the moment. I was mesmerized by the transformation of a brooding and violent man to this charming persona… I had to admit he had a certain flair for the dramatics.

As if he sensed my presence, Erik turned and stared at me in silence. His eyes were sad and full of self loathing. The baffled crowd followed his gaze as he left his seat at the table and walked towards us in a slow and determined manner.

"My dear, I trust you are well rested last night," he said to me in a low voice as we stood face to face.

"Yes, I had a good rest," I replied, unnerved by all the attention we were getting. From the corner of my vision, I saw Inspector Henri watching us silently.

"Hungry?"

I nodded as the three of us sat down under a shady veranda for breakfast. All seemed so normal that it terrified me – to be seated next to Erik in public and in broad daylight, conversing about the weather and frivolous pursuits. Erik had a wide knowledge of the ways of the world despite living underground for a long time. I found myself wondering about his past, what horrors he had endured because of that face and the mask that became his shield from the cruel stares.

"A treasure hunt!" declared Clara loudly, interrupting my thoughts. "An excellent idea to cure the boredom - I will suggest this to the Captain and pass the word around. We shall meet here again at three o'clock!"

After Clara had departed to organize her treasure hunt and the group had dispersed, Jacques Henri came to our table and sat down. "You should join the men in the Smoking Room, Erik," he said. "A few of my friends have expressed interest in your line of work and would like to know more about it."

"I build glorified houses for fat, complacent businessmen and their even fatter and more complacent wives," he told Jacques bluntly. "What do you suppose they would possibly want to know?"

My hand flew to my mouth to suppress a gasp. I thought the inspector would be angry by the rebuff but he merely laughed. "You have a very queer sense of humor, Erik. I like that," he said and went on his way.

"The last thing you want is to have that man as your enemy!" I almost screamed at Erik.

"Meg, my dear," he said in a wickedly mocking tone. "I'm only trying to liven up an otherwise boring and uneventful voyage."

I was outraged by his brazen impudence. "If he finds out who we are, it will be end for both of us!" I snapped.

"Oh, there is no need to overreact over a little experiment of mine," he said pleasantly, shrugging off my concerns.

"Insist on this mad _experiment_ if you must but please do it in my absence," I said irritably as I stood up from the table and walked away.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The next few days were thankfully uneventful - we kept up appearances whenever needed to convince the others that we were married. Erik played the part of the doting husband perfectly, if not for his terrible past, I could have believed, almost believed that he could be a gentle, patient and loving man. Every night we parted ways at the door of my cabin, Erik would disappear into the night like a ghost. I gazed into the darkness wondering what he did, where he went during those hours.

"As you enter the port of New York, you will see the _Statue de la Liberté_, a lovely lady wearing a stola, a radiant crown and sandals, trampling a broken chain, carrying a torch in her raised right hand and a tabula ansata, where the date of the American Declaration of Independence is inscribed, in her left arm. She was a gift from France. I had had the opportunity to witness the design and building of this great monument in Paris. She was engineered to withstand heavy winds… she is now a functioning lighthouse, I hear…"

We were walking back to my cabin after dinner with the Morgans one evening and Erik was in a whimsical mood. Monsieur Morgan had brought up the topic of monuments, engineering feats like the Eiffel Tower which defied the imagination. The builder, Gustave Eiffel was also instrument in the building of the said Statue of Liberty which Erik had just described in detail.

"Then I will certainly not miss it," I said dreamily as Erik's voice conjured up visions of a goddess in all her glory, a beacon for all.

"WE will not miss it," he gently corrected. "If the ship continues its present course, we will see her rising like a star from the ship's bow."

My eyes followed his outstretched hand, almost tipping over the rails.

"Careful Meg..."

Erik's other hand came round my waist, holding me steady as our faces nearly touched. The warm winds were blowing wildly about us. Sensing that I was looking at him, Erik turned his eyes to me. My heart skipped a beat as I could have sworn there was something more in those enigmatic golden eyes than he would care to admit. All I had to do was to lean in and our lips would touch, if I dared to, surrendering to him, to the emotion. Suddenly, there was a crude shout from a group of drunken guests and we jerked apart.

"I think…I think I should retire to my room now," I said in a trembling voice.

"Yes, you should. I bid you good night," he replied with a distant manner.

"Good night, Erik."

I turned away in a daze and made my way back to my cabin. I must be hallucinating - there could be no happy endings if I were to pursue Erik because he remained true to Christine. He could never love me. What he felt for me now was only the same angry pity he experienced for anything vulnerable and damaged. No, I did not seriously believe he was falling in love with me. _What was I thinking?_

With only two more days left on our journey, the ship was abuzz with news that a body had been found in the meat locker, hung up neatly like a coat on a peg. According to the gossip, the man was a member of the crew and had been dead for some time. My heart gave a sickening lurch of fear as I considered who the killer might be. Rumors were rife that there was a vengeful ghost on this ship. Everyone had been told to return to their cabins by the ship's captain until this matter had been solved. Jacques Henri took it upon himself to investigate the incident and started questioning all the passengers and crew.

Erik hadn't shown up at my cabin the entire day and I was sick with horror as I paced the cabin. In the late afternoon, someone rapped the door of my cabin. Erik had showed up without an explanation of his whereabouts or what he had done. He just came in and sat down on the chair uninvited.

"You're not even going to bother to deny it, are you?" I said, outraged at his silence.

"I don't know what you are referring to," he replied.

"The whole ship is talking about the death of a crewman… don't you dare pretend that you didn't hear it!"

"What is the point in me denying anything? I can see that you've already tried and condemned me…"

"I want to hear it from you!"

"If you wish—"

He then proceeded to tell me the incident with calm and dispassion – the man had been drunk that night and he had the misfortune of encountering Erik unmasked. The man was so terrified that he fell to his death as he tried to escape. Erik had wanted to dispose of the dead man by throwing him overboard but he could not risk being seen so he kept the corpse in the meat locker. When he had finished his grim confession, I sat down on the chair opposite him, staring on the floor. It was an accident, he had said.

As I didn't know the circumstances of the man's death, I had no cause to doubt his word and yet…

"Are you going to tell Inspector Henri?" he demanded uncertainly.

Was I too naïve to perceive just how dangerous he really was? Would I live long enough to do it?

My silence was proof of my doubts as he stared at me in despair. "You honestly think I killed him?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know… I don't know what to think, Erik! Not anymore…"

He turned his back on me. "Then there is nothing more to say…"

Erik rose slowly signaling his intention of leaving. As he opened the door, Jacques Henri was standing outside with a little notebook in his hand. "Ah, Erik … just the person I want to see," he said with a wide smile.

"Jacques, it is indeed a surprise!" Erik said cordially. "Please come in..."

All three of us sat down as I served tea in the small chat area.

"I wanted to ask you and your wife a few questions on the night of the unfortunate death of Monsieur Van Pell," he explained. "As you know by now, he was found dead in the ship's meat locker. Apparently, he was a stowaway, not one of the crew. We only found out his name when we searched his belongings."

"Do you have any suspects yet?" I asked.

"None..."

"How did he die?" Erik leaned forward, listening with interest. I could see his bony hands gripping the arms of the chair, the urge to kill held back by a tenuous promise. Inspector Henri was oblivious to how close he was to death that evening.

"My preliminary autopsy suggests that he had fallen to his death… his neck was broken," Jacques revealed.

I almost dropped my teacup, too shocked to even breathe from sheer relief. Erik had spoken the truth! "It must be horrible," I managed.

Jacques nodded grimly and turned to Erik. "I have not ruled out foul play yet. If I may, where were you two nights ago, Erik?"

I quickly looked at Erik – he had lapsed into silence, a state of passive indifference and an air of weary resignation surrounded him. Erik seemed to have aged at least thirty years in a blink of an eye.

"You truly want to know?" he echoed dully. Erik was ready to reveal the events of that night to Jacques.

Panic and fear began to eddy around my brain. If Erik revealed the truth to Jacques Henri, it would mean the end for him. No matter what he said afterward, it would be an affirmation that he was a monster without a conscience!

"He was with me," I blurted out. "If you must know, Erik was with me the whole night…"

The two men turned and stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Is that something so unusual?" I asked flushing hotly.

"No, of course not," Jacques quickly added. "In that case, I only have one more question… did any one of you see Monsieur Van Pell near the upper decks that night?"

"No..._we_ didn't see him," Erik and I replied in unison.

Jacques nodded and feeling a little awkward, said, "Very well… I should not bother the both of you any longer. Good night …"

Erik escorted Jacques out and shut the door. He returned to the cabin and the air was thick with tension. Pouring a glass of brandy into the glass, he drank it down without a word.

"Why did you lie to Jacques?" he demanded suddenly. "What you said could make you a possible accessory to murder..."

I had wanted to tell Erik that this was not the first time I had lied to save him.

"He wouldn't have believed your story… Jacques would have crucified you," I told him instead.

Erik made an impatient gesture. "You did not believe me the first time. What made you change your mind?"

I looked at him squarely. "Jacques said he fell to his death… It was enough to convince me that you are not to blame in this matter…"

"And why do you think he fell? It was because of _this_!" Erik laughed resentfully as his hands stripped the mask away. "This face is my curse…"

Oh, God! This was not the first time such an accident had happened, people fleeing to their deaths at the sight of his face. He had to live with this horror, this revulsion his entire life. I realized that I had barely scraped the surface of the anguish and madness Erik had felt, the terrible loneliness and the eternal darkness of his soul.

"No one is beyond redemption, Erik… Even Christ forgave the thief by his side," I told him quietly. "But I will not stop you if you wish to go to Jacques and tell him the truth…"

I watched him replace the mask mechanically with trembling hands. As soon as his hideous face was out of sight, his shoulders straightened as he walked out.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note: **Will Erik confess? Keep reading to find out!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Word got out the next day that Inspector Henri had completed his investigation and had sent his report to the ship's captain for deliberation. At about noon, the captain made an announcement that he would reveal the findings to the passengers regarding the circumstances of Monsieur Van Pell's death at the Trident Ballroom. I took in the announcement calmly.

_So he has decided to surrender to Jacques_, I thought.

My feet felt like lead as I dragged myself to the ballroom. I just didn't want to hear of Erik's confession and arrest –it was too much to bear, losing the people I cared about. _Not that I really care about Erik_, I quickly added. After all, he did save my life. That has got to count for something.

As I reached the entrance to the ballroom, I saw Erik and Jacques talking to each other in hushed tones in one corner. It struck me as odd - if I didn't know better, I would have thought that they were the best of friends! Still confused, I approached them. They both looked up and saw me.

"Jacques, I wish to speak with Erik… alone," I requested.

The inspector nodded and excused himself while he briefed Captain Bernard.

"Meg, have you come to hear the outcome of the investigation?" Erik asked.

"I have a vested interest in this matter," I spoke with resolution. There was no going back and I knew it. Erik would be arrested and detained until a trial could be heard in the courts. Anxious passengers had begun to congregate in the ballroom…

"Then you must go in…I promise it will be interesting," he said gently but urgently.

_He had done the right thing but why do I feel miserable and wretched?_

"Erik..."

My eloquence deserted me as I felt tears welling. "Before I go, I… I want to thank you for saving my life and giving me a chance… Oh, I wish I could do the same for you…"

"Meg…why-"

"It was a very brave thing you did. Goodbye, Erik…"

I leaned in and hugged him impulsively, my tears blinking free. I didn't know why I did it but it seemed we were meant to part. I tore myself from his sight and ran into the ballroom. It took me a few moments to compose myself and wipe all traces of tears from my face. I found Madame Morgan and sat down next to her. Strangely calm and serene, I watched Captain Bernard walk up the stage to give his speech.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I know all of you are anxious about the outcome of Inspector Henri's investigation. After considering the facts, Inspector Henri and I have come to the conclusion that Monsieur Van Pell's death was an accident. There was no sign of a struggle or a murder weapon. A reliable eye witness had seen him drunk and depressed on the night he died," said Captain Bernard. "We still do not know who had put his body in the meat locker and why… but I can assure you that the rumor of a killer on board this ship is totally unsubstantiated. We will give Monsieur Van Pell a proper burial. Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen."

I was waiting for the instruction to arrest Erik but it did not come.

"Thank God, this is over!" sighed Clara as everyone dispersed, the mood of the day lifted significantly.

It was so unreal that I didn't know what to think – they were not going to arrest Erik after all! All this while, I had thought that he had gone to Jacques and told him everything. I could not be more wrong! Why did he lead me to believe that he had gone to Jacques to confess the truth?

Dazed, I stumbled back to my cabin and found Erik waiting for me there. "Erik!" I gasped in surprise.

"Was it what you had expected?" he asked lightly.

"I don't understand…You were going to Jacques… to tell him the truth."

"I was…I was weary of struggling to exist in a world where I could never belong. Jacques would have done the world a favor by locking me away for good. When I reached his cabin, he was already very drunk. He told me that he had already solved the mystery of Van Pell's death - it was an accident. There was no murder, no mystery, no glory… Instead he poured out his disappointments in life. He had been young and eager when he joined the service, ready to go out and leave his mark upon the world. We sat together, sharing a bottle of brandy for a while until he passed out. I very much doubt that he ever remembered what he said that night," Erik explained. "So I left him there…"

I said nothing and he started to laugh quietly.

"My courage deserted me in the end… I had hoped to tell you this morning … Are you disappointed, my dear?" he asked sarcastically. "It was quite a stirring performance outside the ballroom earlier! A truly grand, romantic gesture!"

I clutched the back of the chair in shock – even I had not anticipated this insult.

"Why do you mock me? I lied to save you!" I snapped. The memory of my outburst this morning filled me with mortification. If I had known that he did not confess to Jacques, I would not have 'thrown' myself at him.

"It was not a performance, Erik. I truly believed they were going to arrest you," I said scathingly. "Is your heart so filled with fear and hatred for mankind that you don't know what to do with a simple and genuine honest feeling? I will not be intimidated into tears as I have none left so take it back! I AM NOT CHRISTINE!"

His golden eyes flashed dangerously.

_Oh God, he will kill me now…_

All he needed to do was put his hands around my neck. My pride refused to give in as I just closed my eyes and waited for the ultimate deed. Then I heard a soft click of the door and when I opened my eyes, he was gone. This man was infuriating - each time I gained some semblance of balance in my life, Erik had to tip it over!

In the evening, the crew of the La Gascogne wrapped the body of Monsieur Van Pell and lowered it into its watery grave while Father Joseph said a short prayer. Only a few people had gathered to attend the funeral service, myself included. I was also aware of Erik's presence behind one of the metal pillars, but I did not acknowledge him. After the service, I returned to my cabin and remained there until we reached New York.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

It was indeed exhilarating, after days and nights of endurance in a cabin and on deck, with the ever-same boundless blue and green of firmament and sea, with only now and then a ship in sight, or the wild wheeling sea-gull on the vessel's track, to come in view of something like land and the great city of New York. A shrill sound of the ship's horns sounded.

As I started to pack what little I had, I found a little note on the dressing table, neatly addressed to me.

"_Make your way to the old church at the end of the street. I will be there. Erik." _

It was a sunrise in the New World! What a glorious sight it was, as the sun, about to ascend the horizon, flooded cloud, sky, bay and seaboard, shipping and the surrounding scenery with streaks of gold and purple. The ship sailed into the harbor as the city woke up from the the dreamy darkness of the night. I gazed up at the Statue of Liberty, looking just as Erik had described it, welcoming me with her glowing torch.

The steamtug ... having come alongside, was engaged for a considerable time in transporting the luggage, till at length we were safely landed on the threshold of Castle Garden, glad and grateful to set foot on the ground once more.

I saw multitudes of churches, public buildings, factories, stores, and other structures, as we steamed up the Hudson Bay. The landing stage was all alive with the officers of the Emigration Commissioners and the Custom-house, and while they are engaged in their duties, the passengers stood in awe of Castle Garden, although appropriated to the purposes of an emigrant depot, it turned out to be an old fortress or castle.

Clara was tearful and excited as she gave me a farewell hug. "You must come and visit us sometime," she said as she wrote the address of her house in a postcard and gave it to me. "And don't forget to write!"

"I will…"

There was life and excitement in the shouting, joyful expectation in the rush for luggage, relatives and friends. While standing at the pier, I caught the contagion of nervous excitement. Hugging myself, I believed that the past was behind me now. This was America, the land of dreams. Weak from lack of sleep, I felt as if the boat was still pitching and rolling beneath my feet. But I walked briskly, past heaps of crated produce, sacks of flour, and beans and barrels. Above me, I heard the screech of seagulls, and beyond the wharf, the sounds of carriages and voices deep and shrill. I hurried along the cobbled streets and found the church quite easily.

The daily Mass was in progress as I found myself drawn to the innocent child-like voices of the choir singing the _Kyrie_. There was a group of boys and girls of different ages, singing without instruments, very true to the note and in different parts. It was complicated and beautiful and I was entranced by the music. As the Mass came to an end, the congregation shuffled to their feet but I sat there still. The emptiness of the church echoed the chasm in my heart. What would become of me now?

"God forgive me, for I've sinned," I murmured and began to cry.

I was weeping until a voice spoke to me.

Looking up, I saw an elderly nun hovering beside me. She spoke to me in a foreign language that I could not understand. _"Parlez vous francais?"_

The elderly nun nodded and repeated her question in French. "Why are you weeping, child?"

"My heart is troubled and I cannot find peace… The children's singing drew me here. Who are they?"

"Orphans… They come from a nearby orphanage," she replied. "It's just across the street."

_Orphans!_

Reality dawned on me that I was now an orphan too. Maman was the only family I had…

"I am the Sister Cecelia from the Sisters of Charity. You are new here, just arrived from France?" the nun said encouragingly.

"Yes, I just stepped off the ship," I answered with a faint smile. "My name is Marguerite Giry."

"Oh, I'm French too… from Calais. I've always wanted to go back and visit dear old France but there is much work to be done here," she sighed. "Do you have any relatives in America?"

"No… I have no family," I replied.

"Then do you know where you're going and what you're going to do?"

I shook my head.

"Poor child! You could stay with us if you like…until you've decided."

Moved by her kindness, I said, "Yes, I like that very much."

Following Sister Cecelia into the nave, I dropped my bag and the reverberating thud echoed unnaturally loud up into the vaulted roof. My glance went automatically into the gallery, and in the suffused light from the stained glass window I saw a figure of a man looking down on me thoughtfully. It was Erik…

"Excuse me, Sister," I said haltingly. "There is someone that I wish to speak to first… Will you wait for a few minutes? I promise I won't be long."

"Yes, of course."

I found the stairs to the upper floor and climbed up to where I saw Erik. He was waiting for me.

"You have come to tell me that you're staying, I suppose," he said grimly, breaking the silence between us.

"I came to say goodbye, Erik. I'm staying," I affirmed it.

Erik raised his shoulders in an elegant, scornful shrug.

"Apparently," he said, and turned away. "You are free to do exactly as you please."

"You brought me here, Erik. I'm thankful for that but the question of what I'm going to do and where I'm going tormented me throughout the voyage. You obviously don't want me…" I said exasperatedly. _Why was he making this so difficult?_

"I did not say—"

"It doesn't matter anymore. I have found what I was looking for," I quickly interjected. "I will be at peace with my past. I hope you find yours too, whatever you choose to do…Goodbye, Erik."

At that, I left Erik at the gallery and went down to meet the Sister.

…ooo…ooo…ooo….ooo…

I never met Erik again for the next few years as I dutifully took up my calling as a postulant and later, a novitiate. My life now was devoted to prayers, vespers and taking care of the children, the poor and the needy. Within the walls of the convent, the bright sounds of the children's voices filled the void in my heart and I knew all their names. I was contented for a time.

Five years passed peacefully enough, until the Reverend Mother called me into her office to ask me if I would replace Sister Therese who was supposed to accompany the children together with Sister Maria and Bertha to a picnic organized by the local diocese. "Therese is having a dreadful cold," she said.

"Where are they going?" I asked.

"They are going to the fair at Coney Island…"

I had never been to Coney Island before as I had no interest to visit such places, the orphanage had enough chores to keep me occupied, but I consented to go with the children.

It was the summer resort of the people from all walks of life, it was accessible by steamboat, tugboat, sailboat, railroad, trolley road, wagon road, boat rowed, and also by bicycle; the main point being that the ordinary people got there. Coney Island was the playground, bath house, and paradise of the American metropolis. It had groups of shows, shops and sights both under tents and in the open air. The boardwalk was flanked by lines of pop-corn, hot waffle, and gypsies willing to read a visitor's palm for small sum. Included was a mighty succession of merry-go-rounds, shooting galleries, candy booths, restaurants, scenic railways, and special attractions of every known variety. There were towers to go up in, mines to go down in, and amazing spectacles to be witnessed for a modest fee. The picnic was a refreshing experience for the children, who played by the beach and bathed in the ocean.

"Come on, Sister Meg… let's go and see the magic show!" said ten year old Johnny o'Rourke as he dragged me by the hand, his red hair bobbing excitedly.

I laughed. "All right, Johnny…"

As I followed the boy, I was struck by the enormous crowd that had gathered near a tent called "_Phantasma_". There the crowd was treated to grand illusions and the baffling sleight of hand, amazed by the magician that stood before them. My heart gave a distinct lurch when I recognized the mask. Erik was here! Memories locked away deep in my heart came flooding back with vengeance as I staggered back, holding on to the wooden fencing.

"So it is you…" I murmured.

"Are you alright, Sister?" Johnny asked anxiously.

"Yes, yes... Would you like to meet this magician?" I said, still in shock.

"Oh boy! You bet!" came the enthusiastic reply.

After the show, I made my way to the back of the stage. Johnny was eager to meet this magician too. Turning a corner, we came to the magician's tent. With a deep breath, I pulled back the flap and stepped inside. The interior of the tent was tastefully furnished, the rich Persian carpet on the floor, trinkets suspended from the ceiling, soft, subdued candlelight and a heady aroma of fragrant oils and incense. Erik was sitting at his table, tinkering with a black box, ignoring my presence.

"Wow!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes gleamed at the various models and shapes of metal and wires scattered all over the tent.

"The performance is over for tonight," he said in faultless English and a dismissive gesture. "If you wish to see my skills you must come back tomorrow."

"Hello, Erik," I began uncertainly.

Swiftly, he turned to us, his golden eyes glittered with conflicting emotions as he stared at my black habit, cap and cape.

"Meg Giry?" he said. "What are you doing here? This is not a place for the religious."

Ignoring his sarcasm, I said, "It's good to see you are doing well yourself. Aren't you going to invite an old friend for tea?"

"Of course, it is inhospitable of me… please, sit," he muttered and went to a corner of the tent where water was bubbling steadily inside the brass urn of a samovar. He poured a single cup of tea, added a slice of lemon and offered it to me.

I accepted it gratefully.

"And who is this?" he turned to look at the boy standing next to me.

"This is Johnny o'Rourke… He is one of the boys from the Foundling House," I said, smiling at the boy who tried not to show his fear and apprehension before Erik while clinging unto my cape.

"Sir, are you a _real_ magician?" Johnny asked in awe.

"Yes, I am."

Erik's voice was surprisingly gentle, shedding his abrasive manner as he reached behind Johnny's ear and picked out a coin as if from thin air. Johnny's eyes widened even more. I saw the spellbound look on his face as he exclaimed.

"Wow!"

"Take this coin and treat yourself to an ice cream," Erik suggested and Johnny happily acquiesced. As the child disappeared through the tent flap, Erik turned to me.

"You have seen what I do for a living. What do you do within the walls of the convent?" he inquired out of courtesy.

"I pray in the mornings and evenings and in between those times, I teach the children music and singing at the orphanage," I said.

"Of course, there are so many children. Surely one of them will prove musical…"

"Oh yes, you should hear them sing at Mass. The children are very talented."

"I haven't heard Mass since I was a child," Erik said solemnly.

"Oh! It was silly of me to assume…Sister Catherine is very old and hard of hearing while I've only a basic knowledge of music… I couldn't give them the proper training. If only they had a great teacher like you…"

"I've avoided music ever since…" Erik paused and was too agitated to continue. "Besides, I have no interest in teaching any more students…"

I thought I heard wrong but Erik was still pining over Christine after all these years! It was rather sad and tragic but it was not for me to judge him, so I decided to change the subject. "You seem to be well adjusted to your new life here. Do you travel much?"

"I travel with the fair…"

"It must be very interesting and exciting," I murmured thoughtlessly. Erik threw me a queer gaze. Aware of his stare and feeling extremely uncomfortable, my teacup rattled as I rose from my seat.

"I should be going now… It was nice to see you again, Erik and thank you for treating Johnny to ice cream…"

He nodded solemnly as he stood. I was about to turn away when suddenly, I had this compunction to tell him the news. "I will be taking my final vows next week at the Church of St. Patrick's…it would be nice if you could come… it would be more than nice," my voice trailed off hesitantly.

"I will be traveling to New Hampshire next week," he told me quickly, turning away to look at a distant corner of the tent.

"I see," I said, a little troubled by the snub. "Well then, God speed, Erik…"

"_Au revoir_, Sister Marguerite…"

As I left his tent, my heart was filled with contradicting emotions. I thought that I had left the past behind me and yet, Erik's presence managed to evoke every remembered sadness from the deepest recesses of my heart.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

"Is something troubling you, Marguerite?"

"Huh?"

I turned around and saw Mother Irene, Superior of our Order looking at me. "Reverend Mother!"

"This is the fourth time I noticed you gazing out the window with this faraway look. Ever since you returned from Coney Island, you haven't said much," she observed with a smile.

After our evening prayers, I had returned to my room as I didn't feel like participating in the singing lessons.

"I… I met someone… from my past," I replied, my voice quivering with doubt.

The gentle woman sat down next to me and said, "I'm concerned about you, Meg… When you joined us five years ago, I sensed that someone or something was holding you back from fully devoting yourself to God…"

"Oh, no…Not at all!" I answered a little too hastily. _Please, please don't send me away!_

"It is not a sin to be in love with someone," said the Reverend Mother kindly. "It does not mean that you love God less…"

The very idea that I was in love with Erik was absurd as I shook my head in denial. "But I don't know if… if I…Oh, it's so complicated. I want to take my final vows so much!"

"But are you ready to live the life of a religious?" Mother Irene posed this question to me.

"Yes, I do. Ever since I heard the children singing…The hymns led me to church and to you. This place has since become my sanctuary," I replied earnestly. "Here I am at peace."

"These walls were not built to shut out problems. You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live…Pray for guidance, dear… He will show you the way."

"Yes, I will, Reverend Mother..."

I stared after Mother Irene as she got up and walked away, leaving me to ponder my troubled thoughts.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**:"Phantasma" was the name of Erik's show on Coney Island in LND. There is no Fleck, Gangle and Squelch, just Erik. Please tell me what you think of the story so far. xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Inside the chapel, I knelt down in front of the statue of the crucified Christ, deep in prayer. Tomorrow would be the day of my final vows. Tomorrow, I would wear my "wedding gown" and have flowers adorn my hair as we process up to the altar in the church. I had memorized my vows so that I could answer the Bishop when he asks me if I would renounce the world and seek to become a spouse of Christ in front of the whole congregation.

_"My daughter, what do you desire?"_

I looked up into the sad eyes of Christ Jesus and could not answer. Doubts clouded my mind. _I am not having second thoughts, am I?_

The noise outside the chapel distracted my thoughts as I turned around and saw Gertrude, a young postulant, her face flushed from running as she said, "Marguerite, there is a gentleman here to see you…"

_Who has come? _I wondered.

I wasn't expecting anyone, unless it was Erik but that would be impossible. He would never come. Sighing, I rose from the pew, made the sign of the cross and followed her out. At the entrance of the House, I saw a familiar face and recognized him immediately. "Monsieur Nadir!"

"Mademoiselle Giry," he responded with a low bow.

I smiled. "It is indeed a surprise to see you here. When did you arrive in New York?"

"The ship La Champagne arrived yesterday. I wish I could say this was a congenial visit but I'm afraid I have bad news," Nadir said grimly. "Your life is in danger… You have to leave here at once!"

"What? What has happened?" I asked worriedly.

Nadir stared at me in silence with eyes that seemed strangely sad.

"Tell me!" I cried, suddenly fearful. It had to be important for him to travel so many miles to warn me of certain danger.

"The Shah of Persia has put a price on your life," he explained. "I still have eyes and ears in the palace and they tell me that His Majesty grieved for his favorite nephew who was murdered in Paris. You know him – it's Prince Kasim."

All color drained from my face at that name.

"It was said that His Majesty wept at the sight of his nephew's body, wrapped in a white shroud. His Majesty had sworn that his killers would be punished. I had hoped that His Majesty's assassins would not find any trace of what happened that night but I fear they have pieced together the mystery surrounding Prince Kasim's death. They knew that he was with a certain mademoiselle from Madame Roget's pleasure house at the time he died…"

A gasp of shock escaped my lips as the horrific memory flashed before my eyes.

"These paid assassins, mindless, soulless animals that excel at nothing else, had left a trail of blood in the search of his killer…They eventually got to Madame Roget and tortured her until they extracted from her the name of the girl. Madame Roget didn't live very long after that," Nadir paused for effect. "Mademoiselle, they are coming for you. I came here as soon as I could. It was by divine providence that I met Erik at the pier and he told me where to find you."

Oh God, I was responsible for her death and the deaths of many more! It was too much for me and I felt myself falling into a spiral of darkness all over again. I wished I could turn back the clock and undo this terrible crime. It was too late now – my hopes and dreams of starting a new life crashed and burned brightly in front of my eyes.

"I need to inform Mother Irene and … and say goodbye to the children," I murmured in a daze as my knees gave out.

"Mademoiselle!"

Nadir caught me just as I was about to faint. "You have to get away, disappear without a trace. Take what you need. We don't have much time," he insisted.

I nodded shakily as I made my way upstairs to my room. Alone in my room, my calm expression broke as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't want to leave the sisters and the children. This was my home.

_My God, why do this to me?_

For their safety, I knew I had to get away from here. There was no telling what the assassins would do. I had to go…

Wiping away my tears, I opened the wooden cupboard, took out an old suitcase and placed it on my bed.

_"Mademoiselle Giry…"_

Startled, I looked around the room for the source of the disembodied voice, it seemed to come from no particular direction, yet it surrounded me.

"Is anyone there?" I called out but there was no response.

I was beside myself, consumed with pain and bewildered by what seems to be a hallucination but which I was certain was not. Then a noise came from the open window made me look up from my suitcase. It was only the fluttering of the curtains in the breeze.

Wait a minute! I did not remember opening the window this morning. Someone or something was in my room. My first thought was to get to the door as soon as possible so I stepped away from the bed cautiously, trying not to make a sound. My heart was beating so loudly that I was sure it would give me away as I swung around and slammed into a solid body, clad in black. The intruder was an Oriental, wearing a turban and eastern clothing. There was something sinister, almost un-human about the way he looked at me. Before I could scream, the intruder clasped his hand on my mouth and I lost consciousness immediately.

The intruder must have drugged me as I did not remember a thing about how I got here or where I was right now. It was some basement of a building, too dark to recognize and there were torches lit at each pillar. Lying flat on my back on an elevated platform, I tried to get up but my head felt heavy and my body refused to move. I could hear voices, men chanting in some foreign language. A hooded figure appeared above me as if in a trance – I could not yet see his face. Still hooded, the man continued to chant in ancient verses. Some kind of ritual was about to climax. Then he picked up a golden dagger, ready to plunge the point into my chest.

I stared, transfixed by the shining weapon, unable to resist or scream. _I cannot die like this! Get up! Get up! Someone, please help me!_

Suddenly, dropping from above, a cloak swirled like a cloud of squid ink that hid a presence in the darkness. The ritual was interrupted by a proverbial voice and I could scarcely describe how I felt when I heard it.

"Let her go," Erik commanded.

"The khanum's Angel of Doom," the hooded figure said in fluent French. "You are alive!"

Suddenly, my mind was whirling with questions. _Erik? Angel of Doom? What was going on?_

"It has been a long time, Ishmael," Erik replied with a frown in his voice as the figure removed his hood to reveal the man who had kidnapped me earlier. He had a deep scar on his right cheek and his eyes seemed to glow with unholy presence.

"His Imperial Majesty and Shadow of God has commanded me to bring back the heart of Prince Kasim's killer," said Ishmael. "You cannot stop us!"

"Then you leave me no choice…I would have to kill all of you," Erik said quietly.

Ishmael laughed. "There are five of us and only one of you."

"I only need one of me…"

Ishmael drew out his pistol and before he could take aim at Erik, a knife whizzed through the air and buried itself in his chest. With a tiny rasp, he fell to the ground. Shouts and gunshots filled the air. With much difficulty, I turned my head to the side to see that Erik was among them with frightful speed, wielding his Punjab lasso like a deadly serpent and blades like metal fangs ripping and rending flesh, slashing bright in the dim lights. The shah's assassins fell like flies in a pool of blood.

I was dumbstruck by the lightning reflex, merciless response in which Erik dispatched his enemies. He was utterly composed and detached as I stared in horror. He had been one of them – the khanum's Angel of Doom!

In the silence of the room, Erik strode over to me and put a cold hand on my forehead. He seemed strangely concerned as he stood looking down at me. Without a word, he lifted me off the platform and walked out of the building. He carried me back to his tent in Coney Island and laid me down upon his bed, covering me tenderly with a blanket.

"You have been poisoned," he told me grimly. "An ancient weapon of the assassins… It seems that Ishmael intended to keep you alive to complete his ritual killing."

Then Erik turned away and began to occupy himself with fixing some concoction of herbs. He returned with a vial of brown liquid. I noticed that he had changed from his black suit into a more comfortable Oriental robe.

"Drink this," he instructed as he lifted my head and placed the vial to my lips.

I almost gagged when I tasted the bitter herbs.

"You'll live," he said with grave satisfaction. "The effects of the poison will wear off in a few hours. Sleep now and rest."

There were so many questions that demanded answers but my eyes could not keep open. Nodding slightly, I began to drift off into a dream of endless green fields, snow-capped mountains, vast dense woods, rolling sand dunes and blue seas, an ancient faraway land of minarets and domes.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

The delicious smells of coffee and toast drew my listless soul back to reality when I opened my tired eyes and slowly became aware of my surroundings - I had spent the night in Erik's tent but he was nowhere to be found. My fingers and toes twitched to my delight, my limbs anxious to move again after yesterday's terrifying incident.

Erik had saved me from the shah's assassins but was the danger over? I wondered. My life was at crossroads – I wanted to go back to the sisters and the children but I couldn't put their lives in peril, knowing what the assassins were capable of. Moreover, my departure from the sisters was so sudden that they would surely worry after seeing my empty bed and unpacked suitcase at the House. I had hidden my past from them, swearing that I would never speak of it again. But the past had finally caught up with me. Suddenly, I heard voices just outside the tent as I sat up quickly. One of the voices belonged to Erik while the other was a stranger's voice. I could barely make out what they were discussing, something about a sale and leaving the fair.

"Good, you're awake," Erik said to me as he entered the tent, his tone cold and aloof. "You do not need those clothes anymore. Change into these… Nadir has gone to prepare the horses and rations for us."

He gave me a set of men's clothing as I looked up at him in surprise. "Where am I going this time?" I asked with a hesitant voice.

"America is a very big country... Pick a choice!" he replied impatiently.

My eyes widened in shock as I couldn't quite comprehend the enormity of the situation. "Why do I have to leave? You killed them… it is over…"

Erik laughed scornfully."You stupid girl! You have no idea what kind of danger you are in, do you? It is NEVER over! The assassins joyfully give their lives to carry out the mandates of death. Once the victim has been pointed out, the assassins will go on their mission without being deterred by distance or danger. Failure is not an option. More will come until you are dead."

I was shivering silently, uncontrollably, stricken as I contemplated the future. I couldn't spend my life waiting for the killers to catch up with me...always looking over my shoulder, wondering if I left some tiny clue behind...

Slumped in utter resignation, I closed my eyes. "I can't do this…You shouldn't have saved me…I… I just can't…Today is the day I am supposed to take my final vows…"

"That life is over, Meg Giry!" Erik shouted suddenly as he grasped my arm and pulled me to my feet. "It's time to leave…"

I ignored him. Flinching from his touch, I jerked my arm free. "Let go of me!"

He reached for me again but I turned and fled in blind panic.

"Meg!"

_No, I don't want to hear anymore…I don't want this!_

Before I could reach the outer perimeter of the tent, Erik grabbed me and we fell together in a crumpled heap. He rolled me unto my back and restrained my flailing hands, pinning them down.

"Let me go!" I struggled violently to get away, shouting, "WHY DO YOU CARE? You are one of THEM!"

"Erik! Meg!" Nadir exclaimed in surprise as he stumbled upon us. It must have been a very queer sight for him to see us sprawled on the ground. "What the devil is going on?"

We sprang apart in startled haste and hurriedly got to our feet. Crossing my arms on my chest, I looked away.

Erik appraised me coldly. "You are right. I was one of them and only I can protect you now…I have sold my stake at the fair. All these belong to Monsieur Barnum now. The choice is yours."

Then he walked out of the tent, leaving Nadir and me.

"He is right you know," Nadir said solemnly.

I looked up at the kind man as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I'm frightened, Nadir… I'm not that strong…Why can't he see that?"

"I shall have a word with him," Nadir replied. "In the meantime, you should prepare for a long journey."

The Sister's habit had been rolled up and tucked away as I changed into a plain dress shirt, pants and boots. My hair was tied up in a ponytail and hidden under a hat. I needed to write to the sisters to explain the circumstances of my leaving – they gave me a home and a new life. I owed it to them that much. The hardest thing was to decide what to tell them. It took me a few minutes to compose a message to Mother Irene and thanking them for their kindness and providence. I came out of the tent and found an errand boy who was willing to deliver my message to the Sisters of Charity for a penny.

"You know the Foundling House?"

"Yes, sir… I know where it is," he replied.

The boy's freckled face split into a wide grin as he pocketed the money and ran off with my note.

"Meg?" It was Erik's voice.

"Erik," I said, wiping away my tears as I tried to put on a valiant front. Erik was waiting for me, his mood somber. My sad appearance must have had an effect on him as he looked at me with great pity.

"I'm sorry I was harsh to you earlier. I forgot that you were frightened and vulnerable especially after last night…"

"What?" I blinked, eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"I was wrong. I was angry but quite wrong," he said, heartfelt. "Sometimes, things happen even if we don't want them to… I will never be unkind to you again."

I stared numbly at him. Nadir's talk with Erik must have worked as now he seemed more considerate.

"Erik, I forgive you and I hope you'll forgive me too," I muttered. "You were only thinking of my well being and I shouldn't have distrusted you… I'm ready to go now."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

Two families of migrant workers were traveling a well-trodden path, leading over-burdened horses towards the south. One gaunt man watched as we passed. There was a dead, worried look in the man's eyes. I was unnerved by their stares. Trying not to think beyond today, I kept riding on.

We avoided the big cities and went off roads, often riding through the woods and spending the night amongst the stars. We were a small party, completely vulnerable to robbers and wild animals. Nadir slept with a loaded pistol but Erik seemed utterly indifferent to the danger, often disappearing from our camp at night.

Erik was not much of a riding companion as he kept mostly to himself. Any attempt to pry into his past was greeted with hostility. So I found myself engaged in riveting conversations with Nadir instead – I wanted to know more about where he came from, the country we knew as Persia. He told me about his life as the daroga of Mazanderan, his family and his home in Ashraf.

"Where are they now?" I asked innocently.

"They're dead," Nadir replied as he gazed at Erik with a strange expression. I was shocked and saddened by the tragedy that had befallen such a kind man. And yet, he had no desire to fill this void with another wife or family. Nadir could not be much older than Erik, perhaps closer to forty. He must have loved them very much to want to spend the rest of his life alone.

"I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry… They are with Allah now," he replied. "One day, I will be with them in paradise…"

Winter would soon be upon us and it would make our journey more difficult. We tried not to stop for more than three days in a particular town. Our horses led us along a stand of hickories and poplars to a river where we stopped to rest and listen to the sound of the rushing water. Below us, off in the distance, I could just make out a two-lane country road. It was perfectly still.

"We should stop and make camp," said Erik as he jumped off his horse and wandered off to find food.

"I'll collect wood for a fire," I offered, determined to keep my drooping spirits aloft. We had been on the road for a week with no destination in sight. I had been wanting to ask Erik about where we were going but I sensed that even he didn't know. Were we doomed to traverse this world with nothing and no one to hold on to?

Erik hadn't returned to camp as Nadir built a fire to keep us warm. I turned to my traveling companion and asked, "I heard the assassins called him – _the khanum's Angel of Doom_…"

Nadir nodded gravely. "It is what they called him in Persia…"

"Why? What has he done?"

"Many terrible things… The khanum was the most powerful woman in Persia. Her son had just been enthroned when he sent me in search of an elusive magician…"

Nadir quietly proceeded to tell me his journey to Russia and his encounter with Erik, detailing their extraordinary friendship in the midst of treachery and court intrigue.

"He was the khanum's favorite for a time… She showered him with many gifts," he told me.

"Were they, _lovers_?"

The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them - a burning question that begged to be answered.

Nadir shook his head. "The khanum was a woman of perverse and intense passions. Rumor has it that he would have taken him as a lover if she dared to defy the strict morals of our society. Instead, she allowed him the gratuitous freedom to unleash his hatred for men. It was said that she bordered on sexual gratification whenever she watched him kill his victims…"

_Oh!_ I gasped in horror.

"I didn't believe that Erik would kill for pleasure but that woman brought out his worst side ever imaginable…He had heard of the ancient cult of the Hashashins, trained killers and followed them to a small village between Isfahan and Tehran. Erik wanted to hone his skills and he learned from the best – he even journeyed to the legendary ruins of Alamut, the fabled city where they held the Muslim world in the grip of fear for centuries."

"What happened then? Why did he stop killing? Why did he leave?"

"A man in Erik's position makes many enemies in court. Erik did not choose to leave. The shah and his mother wanted him dead. I sprang his escape and made him vow not to kill again unless it was in self-defense. I'd like to think that he kept to that promise," Nadir muttered as he jabbed at the fire with a stick.

"I have kept to that promise, Nadir," said Erik suddenly as he emerged from the trees holding two dead pheasants.

"What took you so long?" Nadir remonstrated. "We're starving here!"

"Have my share… I'm not hungry," Erik replied, throwing me a contemptuous look. _Don't ask anymore_, his eyes flashed a warning as he gave the birds to Nadir and retreated into his tent.

Long after the fire had died down, my thoughts were about Erik and what Nadir had told me earlier. Erik had been a fugitive like me – the only difference being he had no friends to help him. He had been alone, wandering across Europe and Asia until he came to Paris.

In the morning as they were packing up their tents and belongings, I caught sight of a gleaming rifle sheathed beside Erik's saddle. A thought suddenly came to mind – if I were to defend myself against these hired assassins, I must learn how to use a gun.

Turning to Erik, I said with quiet determination. "Teach me how to use a gun. I want to learn how to shoot…"

At first, I could see that he was surprised by my request, then later a chuckle. "That would not be wise. Nadir and I can manage -"

"Not wise? It's my life we're talking about here! I'm a person, not some precious cargo. I'm the weakest link in this group. How am I going to defend myself? Am I going to rely on someone with a death wish and a crazed ex-assassin?" I exploded.

Nadir stopped and stared at us but Erik stood firm.

"The answer is no…"

I found myself floundering at his cruel words. In my distress, I urged my horse forward into a gallop, past the country road, across the meadows and shallow streams, snapping off low hanging branches in groves and scattering birds. Finally, my horse staggered, wheezing from the physical exertion. Ashamed, I slowed down. Dropping the reins over the pommel, I looked back across the green sea of meadow grass and surrounding pines. There was no sign of Nadir or Erik. I could ride on alone, set my own future but I knew that Erik would soon find me as the assassins would. Out here, I had no food and no means to obtain it. I could not stay out in the open – there were enough dangers surrounding these woods. With a sigh, I dismounted so that my horse could graze while I waited for them to show up.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

**Author's Note**: I can't believe that Erik the genius could be reduced to composing vaudeville sideshows like "Bathing Beauty" in LND. It had to be perfect or nothing at all! I brought Nadir Shah back into this story so that he could act the go-between for Erik and Meg in the later chapters. Hope you like it. xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

By the time, Erik and Nadir reached the creek and found me, I had lit a fire with pine knots from a nearby grove. Huddled beneath a blanket, I watched them unload while Erik turned the horses loose to graze. Nadir prepared a simple meal and we ate in heavy silence. When we had finished our meal, Erik built up the fire until it blazed like a bonfire in the cold night air. I held my hands up to the flames, but they could not warm the chill within me and I shuddered.

"Meg, I had my concerns about letting you handle a gun but Nadir and I have discussed your request and we have agreed that I will teach you," said Erik and Nadir nodded his assent.

I turned away from the red orange flames and said to them, "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow," replied Erik. "We'll begin tomorrow."

Early next morning, I woke up to find an assortment of rifles and pistols all laid out before me. Erik explained each one with meticulous detail.

"I would have recommended a derringer – it's small, easily concealed weapon for self defense but it is only effective at close range. Therefore, I recommend the Colt, a relatively new invention with a revolving cylinder containing six bullets… You can fire all of them at one time without reloading."

Then he showed me how to load the weapon, cocked the hammer with his thumb, aimed and pulled the trigger with his firing hand. The explosion shattered the peace and the acrid smell of smoke stung my eyes and nose. His aim was accurate as the tin can bounced off the rock.

"Here, take it and try to shoot those cans off the rocks," Erik said as he gave me the revolver. It was heavy and the metal was cold to the touch. I had to use both hands to take aim.

My first attempt at using a Colt revolver was dismal, the shot went wide as the gun recoiled and I nearly fell back in shock.

"Your marksmanship is appalling," Erik commented grimly. "You need a lot of practice…"

Shaken but undaunted by his remark, I struggled to my feet and tried again. This time, Erik stood close behind me and placed his hands over mine. "Do not tense up, loosen your grip a little," he advised.

His nearness reminded me of the time on the La Gascogne, when he had held me and prevented me from falling over the rails. My concentration was lost as all I could think of was that kiss we almost shared and how our lives could have changed in that single moment. I looked up at Erik and found him watching me. _Could he hear my heart pounding loudly? What could he be thinking of?_

Perhaps, he too remembered that evening and gently releasing me, he said at length, "I'll leave you to practice on your own…"

With a small sigh, I turned my attention once more to learning how to use a gun properly.

Later, I made no mention about what had happened during my shooting practice and went about my chores as if nothing had happened. It was hard as I kept on looking over my shoulders into the wood clearing to see if Erik had returned. He had gone off somewhere as usual and I tried not to let his conspicuous absence let me down.

That evening, Nadir noticed my brooding silence. "What's wrong, Meg? You're not your usual cheery self."

I just shrugged off his concern. "It's nothing…"

"I found Erik in a very black mood today. What's with the two of you? Did you both have another argument?"

"No, of course not!" I said indignantly. "We were _civil_ to each other…"

"Maybe you need to talk to him and sort out whatever that is bothering the two of you," Nadir suggested.

I looked at Nadir and then in the direction of where Erik had gone. "I think I should…"

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

I found Erik sitting alone, perched high on a rock overlooking the gentle bubbling creek below. He seemed deep in thought. Erik jumped when he heard me approach, a reflex born of a lifetime's wariness.

"Erik..."

"Meg..."

"May I join you?" I asked.

He nodded. "If you wish..."

The forest was alive with the call of the wild and suddenly, I realized, I did not know what to say to him. My words, which had seemed so real in my mind caught in my throat and were lost in the night. The silence deepened between us and I realized that Erik was waiting for me to speak.

"I must have disappointed you with my poor shooting today…," I began in a poor attempt to make conversation.

Erik was surprised. "What? No, of course not…"

"Nadir told me that you were upset about something and I assumed that it was the target practice," I said.

"Would you prefer Nadir to teach you?" Erik inquired.

"No, I prefer…" _you_, my heart seemed to say but I stammered hurriedly. "… the current arrangement."

_Why am I hearing things in my head? I must be going mad…_

"Are you sure? You seem to have a lot in common with him," he stated.

"He treats me like a little sister and I enjoy being around him," I replied, ignoring the insinuation in his voice. "We talk about many things, our lives, our favorite things…It's not like I have a choice, you know… to… to…talk to someone. Though it would be nice if you and I could have this type of conversation a lot more…"

Erik seemed confused. "You mean about Nadir?"

"No, silly!" I laughed out loud. "We could talk about anything and everything…if you want to, that is."

He grew silent for a while and I wasn't sure if he wanted me to stay. Then Erik turned to me and said, "Can you tell me about the children at the orphanage?"

I smiled warmly. It was something close to my heart as I replied, "I'd love to…"

I told him about children living on the streets trying to support themselves. There was no welfare to help them out. Most of their relatives were back in the old country and had no one to help take care of these children. Many of them turned to minor crimes in order to get food and shelter. They had no medical help when they were sick. They had little opportunity to make something out of themselves. Most would have either died, or have been put in prison or work houses. The Sisters of Charity took care of these orphans. I also told him about the welfare program of placing these children with foster families in the Mid-West and Orphan Trains.

"We would sew clothes and knit sweaters for their journey. We wrote messages on cards and slipped them into the food baskets so that the children could find them. On the farms, and towns of the United States, there was room, food, parents, and safety. There was a chance to go to school and hopefully, grow up and become someone of which, America could be proud. They won't have a chance like that in New York City."

"The children are lucky to have you. You took them in and loved them…I never knew a mother's love…This face earned my mother's fear and loathing. She gave me a mask, so that she would not have to look at me," he said in clipped tones, the memory of her had hurt. "My mother hated me and I hated her. She taught me to expect revulsion and rejection early in life. I ran away when I was nine years old. Tell me, did you find any child that looked like me?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't meet anyone quite like you…but I've seen children cruelly maimed, blinded, their limbs chopped off by ruthless syndicates who preyed on them so that they could beg on the streets and earn the sympathy of the people. It was horrifying and heartbreaking…"

The memory of those children still lingered like poison in my mind as I turned away, silent.

"If you find a child like me, who looked like me, what would you do?" he asked softly, still staring at me.

It felt like eternity as I struggled with the emotions warring within me – I wanted to show him that a child like him would be loved just as much as another. My heart was beating fast as I faced him, determined not to run away this time. "I… I would… do this…"

Carefully, I reached out to remove the mask and took his disfigured face in my hands, the warmth and stubble on his chin convinced me of that he was human, not an angel or a monster, just human. His nearness, his warmth, and the musky fragrance all melded into an intoxicating spell that spun my senses and penetrated my defenses. For a second, I thought I would kiss him, just once, just to know the unknowable for a small moment in time. Before I knew what I was doing I began to close my eyes, pressing my lips to his, surrendering to the moment. His lips were not perfect but they ignited some very strong feelings within me.

Pulling away slightly, I noticed the surprise in his face complete with a ravening desire and something else, the pain of a memory. _Oh God, it was a mistake…_

"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" I said wretchedly.

"No, Meg," Erik quickly interrupted. "What you did… was beautiful… I w…want to thank you…"

_Gratitude!_ _Was that all he felt?_

The hesitation before Erik spoke was only fractional, but I felt it. I was such an idiot! Of course, he wasn't attracted to me. If he were, we would have been lovers a long time ago, on that steamship. _Stop chasing the impossible_, I told myself fiercely. Nodding slowly, I turned away in bitter disappointment and started to walk back to camp. If I stayed here any moment longer, I would certainly burst into tears.

"Meg?" I heard him call my name, his voice so alluring that it made my heart ache.

"Yes?" I looked expectantly back at him.

"I'm glad you did not take your final vows…"

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

In the lonely confines of my tent, I lay awake, savoring the shared closeness of our talk, a promise of a deeper intimacy. I had heard the concern in his voice and knew that he was not sure of his feelings for me either. Unconsciously, I touched my lips with my fingertips, marveling at the rush of emotions and butterflies in my stomach. How could I have not realized it sooner? I was in love with Erik! Perhaps, I was afraid then, letting the years slide by, hoping this unresolved feeling would go away. But it never did.

"_I'm glad you did not take your final vows…" _

Erik's words stayed in my head as I tried to understand its meaning. The question tore at me, surfacing each time I woke from thin, fitful slumber.

Target practice! That was all the diversion I needed to distract me from my thoughts about Erik. So each morning, without fail, I would take the Colt and walk to some deserted area in the woods, place the tin cans some distance away and practiced shooting. My aim was getting better but it was still not enough to inflict damage - the tin cans continued to sit smugly on top of the rock.

_Concentrate. I must concentrate!_

My life depended on it. If I wanted my freedom, I had to earn it. I would have to kill or be killed. Steadying my shoulders and arms, I breathed deeply. Eyeing the target, I gently squeezed the trigger. Again, I felt the gun recoil. For a moment, I thought I had missed. And then I saw it a few feet away on the ground, shattered by the bullet. I had done it!

Satisfied with my progress, I hurried back to camp to announce the news. I found Erik and Nadir talking in hushed voices – Nadir looked grim while Erik was too distraught to notice my presence. Something must be wrong, I thought as I hid behind a tree and listened in to their conversation.

"_Meg kissed me last night…"_

I took a sharp intake of breath. They were talking about me…

"_So, she has chosen you. I've always suspected it! You should be happy."_

"_If I were happy, we would not be having this conversation!" _

"_Then what is it?"_

"_She gave it so freely, without intimidation or fear and I… I was stunned, shocked beyond belief that she would touch me. All my life, I've always wanted Christine… I schemed, blackmailed and manipulated her with my voice, forced her to love me because I knew she could not love me of her own free will. What a fool I was! In the end, my pride or whatever that was left of it, could not accept Christine even though she was ready to run away with me and forsake her fiancé. I was determined not to go through it again…And then, there was Marguerite Giry…"_

"_Yes, our dear little Meg… You thought she was not worth your time in your obsessive quest for perfection, only a sparrow compared to the glorious nightingale…" commented Nadir. _

"_Do not mock me, Nadir! I'm already distressed as it is…"_

"_How do you feel about Meg?"_

I felt a knot in my stomach as I prepared for the inevitable…

"_That is the problem… I don't know what I feel… Last night, I could have… I had sworn to protect her, Nadir! Not seduce her! Her mother and I were friends and I'm old enough to be her father. It just doesn't feel right. Our relationship would be almost incestuous in nature. Oh god! What a farce it will be! Especially not after Christine…What am I to do?"_

My eyes grew wide at the shocking revelation – Erik desired me, wanted me. So the attraction wasn't a figment of my imagination after all! Briefly, I felt a shred of hope, clinging to all its might to an impossible dream.

"_You have to decide whether you want this. Meg could be as confused as you are right now. If you decide not to pursue her then tell her so. I'm not saying that you should settle for less, Erik. You probably know by now how amazing she is..."_

"_No woman will go with me freely... Not Christine, not Meg..." Erik said darkly.  
_

_"Regret is a very poisonous emotion, Erik. It warps and distorts your life until there's nothing left but bitterness and despair. Think about it. She may be the one you were waiting for."_

_"You are right, my friend. I will have to decide sooner or later…"_

I could not bear to listen anymore as I slipped away quietly and made my way down to the riverbank. Sitting alone, I stared at the gushing waters with wrenching misery as my mind wandered to the kiss – it was warm, gentle and innocent. I shouldn't think beyond that.

_Breathe, Meg,_ I told myself.

My feelings were bottled up inside ready to burst at any moment. _He loved Christine, not me…_

The thought was almost too much to bear, the pain too intense that I shuddered.

"Meg?"

Abruptly, I turned around and saw Erik standing in front of me, looking very ill at ease, like a man guilty of a crime. "I wish to speak with you," he said uncertainly.

This was it! He had come to say that he was not interested in pursuing me, I thought sadly. I did not know if I could handle this… this rejection. Bravely, I looked up at him and smiled.

"Of course…"

"Nadir would never forgive me if I didn't speak with you first…" he began. "I am not particularly adept at expressing myself when it comes to matters of a more personal nature, but I shall endeavor to try. Over the years I have acted in ways that you have judged... harsh and I am sorry. I have been unfair to you – indulging in your affections while withholding mine…"

I nodded, but I was barely listening. I was waiting for him to tell me to walk away, that he did not love me.

"Meg, you are young and your mother is not here to advise you on love and marriage. If Antoinette had been alive and if a man had come along, she might have sat that man down with a long list of questions to establish whether he would be an appropriate match for you. She would have wanted to know how he will provide for you. What is his reputation in the community? How is his health? Where will he take you to live? What are his debts and assets? What are the strengths of his character? Your mother left you in my care and … I found myself thinking about those same questions and I might add that I don't fare very well in most of the categories..."

I stared at him as the memory of my mother twisted painfully in my heart.

"Under normal circumstances, she would not have just allowed you to marry someone like me… but, these aren't normal circumstances and because of this, for lack of a better word, I have a proposal for you," Erik said awkwardly, trying not to sound too forward or dim-witted.

My eyes widened in attention. _A proposal? For me?_

"I wish to do this properly. With your permission, I would like to court you, Marguerite Giry…for the following reasons," Erik said with much difficulty. "You are unattached as am I…You are here and you need my protection. You know my past, well most of it… and Nadir has given his blessings."

At last, his words penetrated my foggy thoughts. I was so shocked that I could barely speak. "Me?"

"I understand that this is a shock for you. I'm just as confused about how I could have feelings for two women at the same time," he offered quickly. "All I'm asking is for a chance to know you better. I hope you do not object?"

Erik anxiously waited for me to speak again. "Don't look so afraid," he said, his voice low with tenderness. "Christine was afraid of me but I don't want you to be afraid."

I knew I had to reply. "I'm so surprised…"

"Surely you must have known…" Erik's voice trailed off.

Yes, I had known from the way he looked at me, from the way I responded to him. It was a woman's instinct. From the very first moment I met him in the dungeons below the Opera House, there had been an undercurrent between us. I had ignored it and so did Erik, for Maman and for Christine, but they were gone and we remained.

"I may look like a monster but it doesn't mean that I should behave like one!" Erik retorted, suddenly angry as he turned away from me.

Erik was hurt by my response and reluctance to agree to the arrangement. This was the singular, most important life decision I would have to make because I loved Erik wholeheartedly and if I were to lose him, I would never recover from the devastation and loss. Slowly, I went to him.

"You mean it?" I asked him anxiously. "This is not some kind of cruel experiment or some feigned negotiation to test me?"

He nodded. "I mean it."

His voice had a pleasant timbre that made me weak. The years of denial seemed insignificant compared to this moment. I saw a transformation that took my breath away - he had become the perfect gentleman with polite manners. Convinced that he would not renege on his word, I replied with a trembling voice, "Yes, Erik... You have my permission..."

Erik was a little surprised, perhaps, unused to this closeness and honesty. Then Erik took both my hands in his and kissed them, his breath lingering on my skin and warming my heart.

"Thank you, Meg," Erik said as he tucked my hand under the crook of his arm. "We should go back … Nadir is expecting us."

Together, we walked back to camp.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

**Author's Note: **I hope you'll like this side of Erik! Obviously, his methods with Christine failed dismally so I thought he would try something different with Meg. xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Slowly, as the days passed, I became aware of Erik's changing behavior towards me, from polite respect to guarded affection. As we traveled on the road, Erik seemed to find a series of minor tasks like tending the horses, making a fire or filling out skins with water, tasks that would keep him by my side but in time, he found the confidence to linger in my presence just to chat or show me the amazing sketches he made during his travels – these were pictures of models he had made or just architecture of buildings with the finest detailing. I noticed that all his sketches were devoid of people, only still art.

"I don't like people – as a rule" he had said.

One day, I found a sketch of a beautiful woman amongst his other drawings. She was stretched languorously on an elegant chaise and had a curious contentment on her face - her eyes were closed and she had a beautiful smile. Her face! It could not be! Could it? Erik must have had drawn a picture of Christine but the name written on the edge of the picture was "_Madeleine_".

Who was this woman? I wondered.

"She is my mother," said Erik stiffly when he saw me staring at the picture.

His mother! Why didn't I think of that? The paper was quite yellowed with age and the woman was wearing a vintage dress… Erik must have done this sketch a long time ago.

"How is this possible?" I whispered. "She looks… looks just like Christine!"

He shrugged. "A fluke of nature, perhaps… I do not believe my dead mother had any Swedish relations connected to the Daae family…"

There was ambivalence in his eyes that rather unsettled me. His mother had hated him and shunned him. How could he have drawn this picture without her knowledge?

"Tell me about her, Erik."

"I would rather not," he replied coldly. "Just be glad that you won't ever have to meet her…"

After a moment, he took back the sketch book from me and told me rather harshly that he wished to be alone. His tone brooked no argument and so I returned to my tent, still wondering about this woman who had brought Erik into this world. What was she like? Did she ever regret letting him go? I kept thinking how different his life would be if his mother had loved him. I realized with a touch of despair how daunting my future with Erik would be if I chose to build our love on his devastated soul. In spite of all his faults, I found myself falling a little more in love with Erik.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Our travels brought us further and further away from civilization and deeper into the forest. Not only had the forest become our refuge from our enemies, it was also our source of food, fuel and water. One morning, I followed Erik on a hunt for fresh meat. He was aware of every movement, every trampled brush and grass, small sunken rocks, bushes stripped of leaves and berries, Erik moved with quiet efficiency, following the trail that led to a deer, silent and ghostlike. He did not pursue the deer but decided on a smaller animal, a rabbit or a bird. Erik searched the branches and stopped abruptly as if he had seen something in the bushes.

"Gypsies!" he said guardedly, recognizing the signs that other Romany travelers had left in their wake, signs that pass unnoticed to the eyes of the uninitiated.

I had seen them at county fairs, plying their trade and wares but I knew very little about this group of people and the little I knew was mostly bad; they were vagabonds, thieves and ruffians that seldom ventured into cities, preferring to wander on the outskirts of towns, farms and roads.

He moved warily, following the signs and soon we heard dogs barking in a distance and faint shouts. From a distance, we could see an encampment of tents and caravans, pitched on a broad clearing. We withdrew from the scene in silence, skirting round the swampy lake back to our camp.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously as he began twisting birch twigs together.

"Making signs, to warn them of danger if they come close to our camp," he replied.

"How do you know these things?"

Erik's face hardened. "I spent a few years with _them_…"

Of course! I remembered that Maman once told me that she had met Erik at a traveling fair owned by the gypsies. From the tone of his voice, I sensed the anger he felt towards them – he must have been abused and had suffered tremendously in their hands. That night, he kept watch on our camp like a hawk, his back rigid and straight while holding his rifle and his golden eyes staring into the darkness. I brought Erik a cup of hot tea and sat down beside him. "Do you think they will raid us?"

Erik gave a non-committal shrug as he accepted the drink. "They know we are here," he said cryptically. "They had read the signs…"

Oh, I gasped in surprise and was a little worried about the idea of being observed by these people. I shuddered and drew my coat tight around me against the chilly night air. Noticing, Erik took off his mantle and put it around my shoulders. At once, the warmth and his scent from his mantle sent my senses reeling with a myriad of emotions. How wonderful it would be, I thought, to be safely tucked in his arms as I listened to the steady thumping of his heart?

"Thank you," I murmured timidly. "Can I stay here with you?"

There was no safer place I would rather be right now.

Erik turned to me and nodded with a little sigh.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The crisp sound of chirping of birds woke me up from my deep slumber and I realized that I was lying on the ground with his cloak covering my body. Erik was still sleeping a few feet away in a sitting position with his arms folded, his head resting against the tree trunk and his rifle beside him. My heart warmed at the sight of his peaceful slumber, imagining what it was like waking up next to him every morning for the rest of my life. Taking the cloak from my shoulders, I approached him with the intention to cover him with it. The material hardly settled on his form when he suddenly let out a cry of demented anguish as he fastened his hands in a murderous grip around my neck, his eyes wild and angry.

"Erik!" I gasped fearfully, pulling at his arms.

A pale recognition flashed across his face. With a choking groan, he let go of me and turned away in disgust. "Do not creep up on me like that again!" he rasped. "I could have killed you!"

Tears stung my eyes as I bowed my head and let him rain curses on my folly without a word of protest. At last he was silent, the rage was gone.

"I'm sorry…I will never do it again," I stammered with bitter disappointment. It was so hard to please him. Everything that I did seemed to upset or rile him up - it seemed like I was always fighting my way upstream in this relationship. I didn't know what to do or how to love him. Perhaps if I were Christine Daae, _his perfect woman_, he wouldn't judge me so cruelly, I bristled. Helpless and lost, I withdrew from him but felt his gentle restraining hand on my arm.

"Forgive me, Meg," he said softly. "I forget that you've shown me nothing but kindness and compassion. I've been a poor companion and a lesser friend…"

_A friend? Is that all I am to you? A friend? I don't want a friend… I want a lover… I want you!_

My heart cried out in desperation as I wrenched my arm free. "Many men would gladly have me for the asking at the pleasure house. Here I am, alone with you, willing you to take me, not once but twice… yes, that day too on the ship and yet, you do not want me for yourself…"

I turned but Erik caught my wrist.

"Meg, listen to me," he said firmly. "I would never think of you that way … You deserve better…"

"But not good enough for you…"

"Meg!" he cried. "Don't think for a second that I don't want you…"

"Then why?"

He could not answer me.

Abandoning all reason, I let my feelings free as I leaned forward, and kissed him, my mouth moved gently across his. When he didn't protest, I boldly moved into his arms, willing him to take me. Erik made a sound in his throat and pulled me closer, kissing me passionately now. Both of us realized the implications of this moment that we have taken a step closer to each other. There was passion... and desire... but most particularly, the awkwardness of two people discovering each other for the first time.

I couldn't stop my hands from reaching upwards to remove the mask. My fingers traced the contour of his jaw and the ridges on his face, the tenderness of the touch making Erik moan softly. Moving closer, I pressed my body against his as my lips quivered.

"Let me be yours, Erik. Take me… please."

Suddenly, his hands came up and grabbed my wrists, pushing us apart.

"We have to stop," he told me gently but firmly. "Or we might do something that we will both regret…"

His words finally sank into my desire addled brain. Regret? For whom?

I almost uttered a word of protest but later admitted begrudgingly that he was right – it was too much, too soon. Flushed with embarrassment at my own wanton behavior, I averted his intense gaze. I never thought I would come to this, being swept away by emotions so strong that they threatened to drown me.

"Meg, are you all right?" he asked, concern laced his voice as he held me, refusing to let me go.

"Yes… yes, I am… a little breathless…"

"Look at me…please."

Slowly, I lifted my eyes to his, gazing unflinchingly at his ruined face and found only tenderness there.

"Meg, I must have dreamed this a million times… for someone to look at me the way you do right now… "

"Erik—"

"Hush, please…," he said as he brushed the stray lock of hair from my face. "I will not want your pity or your sacrifice or regret. I cannot bear it. I want you to consider very carefully about what I said, about spending the rest of your life with me. Do not answer me now but promise me that you will think about it."

I wanted to tell him that I loved him but he was not ready to accept my proclamations of love. _Could he not see that I loved him?  
_

His ragged breath and intense gaze told me that he desired me too but Erik was giving me a chance to walk away from this moment without regrets. I could not fail him now. There was only one thing I needed to do. Silently, I nodded.

"Forgive me," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For doubting your feelings…"

"There is nothing to forgive, my dearest Meg," Erik said with a sigh as he stepped back, offering his hand to me. "We will keep this between ourselves and not say a word about it again."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Erik rode ahead of the group to make sure that the route we were taking was safe from robbers and undesirables. I let out an imperceptible sigh as I watched him go.

"I am happy for him."

I looked at Nadir questioningly and realized that he had been following my gaze.

"He is lucky to have you… It requires a great sacrifice to love someone like Erik. He is not an easy man to love," said Nadir gravely.

"Thank you, Nadir. I know he is very special and gifted," I murmured. "His past hurts are so many… He won't even sing or play his violin without remembering _her_…"

_He would never play for me…_

Yes, I was jealous of Christine, jealous that she had his heart for such a long time. It would take a miracle for Erik to break free from her spell. _  
_

"Be brave and patient, Meg Giry. He will come round eventually," Nadir assured me.

I smiled weakly and turned to stare ahead of me. What kind of future would it be for us? The trees and the gentle breeze whispered no answers. All that was clear to me now was that my world would not be complete without Erik.

We rode into a small town to replenish our supplies while Erik stayed behind at our camp site. He gave me a long list of items to purchase and when we reached a general store at the end of the main street, I quickly went in while Nadir gave the horses a drink. As we loaded our supplies, I heard a strange language spoken and turned to see who they were. Three olive-skinned men with black hair and colorful clothing were talking amongst themselves as they led a few horses towards a group of townsfolk. The horses were beautiful and magnificent – sturdy legs, muscles, mane and eyes alert. They tossed their heads and stamped their feet, eager to run. I could tell that the men were Gypsies, possibly from the group that we had encountered in the woods a few days ago. I watched in fascination as the men argued and haggled over the price of the horses and the way money quickly exchanged hands. They seemed pleased with the day's trade and made their way towards the general store. Most of the townsfolk avoided them, hurrying across to the other side or plainly ignored them.

"You have a really fine horse -"

Startled, I looked up and saw one of them staring at me and he was speaking to me in strong accented English. He was a young man with light brown eyes, a short beard and overall roguish good looks. There was nothing hostile in his questioning, merely curiosity.

"Spirit is a very faithful and reliable horse," I replied.

"Spirit, hmm… a beautiful name," he added as he reached up to touch my horse's muzzle and Spirit nudged back playfully. I was surprised by the instant camaraderie that was struck up between man and beast. He made it seem so natural.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he said matter-of-factly.

"How do you know?"

"I just do…"

The Gypsy gave an innocent shrug and was intent on hanging around me while his other companions went inside the store. One of them appeared at the door and shouted to him in their language. He quickly straightened and mumbled an apology. The other man scowled and went back inside.

"I wish I could stay a little longer but my brothers need my help with the supplies. By the way, Spirit tells me that you are a kind mistress and that you really would look better if you wear a skirt," he told me.

I seriously doubted that my horse could speak to him but laughed at his attempt at flirting. He was gone before Nadir returned and I had a strange feeling that it won't be the last time we would meet again. I found myself thinking about these curious people, heathen masses who shunned the other folk as they themselves were shunned, adding to their mystery and occult status.

"I saw them… the Gypsies," I said as Erik shot me a startled look. "They were in town."

"The Gypsies are a very tightly knit community. They don't mix with other people," Erik informed.

"One of them said I had a fine horse."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "What does he want?"

"Nothing!" I exclaimed. "He was just making small talk while his companion's bought supplies from the store."

"I'd be careful when dealing with them," he warned. "I've seen them use poisons and drugs to steal and cheat an unsuspecting victim, leaving them without any memory of what had happened."

"Did they make you do those things when you were with them?"

Erik took a deep breath and nodded. "Most of them will not thieve at night for fear of encountering spirits of the dead so they made me go out to poison livestock and drug travelers so that the next morning, they could pick up the haul. I hated this practice but I did what I needed to survive. A very knowledgeable medicine woman taught me how to prepare poisons and remedies for every conceivable human disorder. Of course, not all of her remedies worked and she threatened to curse me when I experimented with her recipes."

"They seemed to treat you as one of their own," I observed.

Erik's anger flared. "I was never one of them! Whatever small measure of freedom was gained through many years of torment and abuse! I lived in a cage… a filthy cage! I will never forget the humiliation and horror of being exhibited like an animal, a thing despised…"

He rose abruptly and made for his tent without another word. I could only imagine the shock my mother had when she saw Erik. That was why she couldn't talk about it even to me. Now I understood his abhorrence towards them as I slowly pieced together his early childhood and it wasn't a pretty picture. Was it possible for a human heart to hold so much misery?

We continued our journey south. Traveling along a rocky track, falling away to the river at one side and a steep cliff to the other, the way itself was broken and precarious, a bad country to meet an enemy. So it was imperative that we left this part of the woods as quickly as possible, we traveled at night. Erik saw a light in the distance, a torch flicking in and out of view. He stopped and listened hard as he pulled out his pistol. There was someone at the edge of the gorge. We did not move until the light went out and we were surrounded by darkness once more.

A huddle of irregular, thatched-roofed houses set in a clearing surrounded by mountain and forest was a welcome sight after days of hard travel. It was a small farming community with cornfields, the crops high and thick as we waded into the field.

I longed for a bath and a good night's rest as we finally rode into the farming community. The main street was deserted and the people watched us from behind windows and closed doors, those sad mournful eyes filled with antimony. I sensed that we were not welcomed when Erik and Nadir kept their hand firmly on their holsters. Something terrible must have happened in this town.

_Why were they so afraid?_ I wondered.

My answer was a gruesome one - graves. There were graves everywhere; wooden crosses lined the road, around the paths and outside the church. I was desperate to get out of this god-forsaken place but Erik had other ideas. He insisted on stopping by the church and we were forced to accompany him on his capricious whims. It wasn't the time or place to be religious!

"Not again!" Nadir groaned as Erik jumped off his horse and entered the church grounds. He pushed open the creaking church doors and a grisly sight met him - foul-smelling and rotting human carcasses lay in a heap. Immediately, he covered his face with his cloak and entered the place. Our horses tethered nervously. An epidemic must have occurred here and the remaining survivors were too terrified to step out of their homes, lest they get infected too. If they didn't die of the disease, starvation would claim them slowly but surely, I thought. Why didn't they just leave?

"Cholera," Erik said when he returned. "The water here is contaminated. We should leave at once."

Suddenly, a group of armed men stepped out into the main street, blocking our way. Dirty, ragged and desperate, they closed in on us. Their voices, when they demanded money and our horses, were insolent and their manners arrogant. They were about to draw their guns upon us when suddenly, a shower of multicolored sparks were issued from Erik's hands, igniting a barrier of flames between us and the men. This caught them by surprise and it was our chance for escape as we made for the safety of the woods.

I kicked my horse, Spirit into a full gallop as we headed for the rocky incline ahead of us. Spirit was nervous as he tried to find its footing, kicking up sprays of pebbles and shards. Erik and Nadir were already in front as I fell behind.

"Spirit, come on… Move!" I urged him.

We were almost at the top when Spirit suddenly slipped and fell down hard on its knees. A single misstep was all it took. Caught off balance, I was thrown forward into some bushes. The horse stumbled to get back on its feet, slipping again. Frightened, and unable to find its balance, Spirit started to slide backward down the incline.

"No!" I screamed in horror as I watched Spirit plunge down the ravine.

"Meg!"

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much for following the story so far!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Erik grabbed my arm and pulled me up before I could scramble down the slippery edge to save my horse. "It's too late! Spirit is dead," Erik said firmly as he held me close.

_NOoo... _Moaning loudly, I grieved for the loss of my faithful steed; his body lay broken on the damp earth and decaying leaves below.

"We must leave now!" he ordered, dragging me away from the site.

The death of Spirit severely hampered our journey as we were one horse short and we lost some of our provisions. Erik let me ride his horse while he walked by my side. I could sense his frustration at this unfortunate delay and his unspoken reproach for my poor handling of Spirit. I needed to find a solution for our predicament soon.

We came to a path which suddenly dropped away to reveal a view of the geography. And there, finally, in the distance, we could see a bustling town. _Maybe we could find another horse there_, I thought.

As Nadir went into the general store, I wandered over to the smithy's nearby. The town's burly blacksmith shook his head. "You won't find any horses for sale here," he told me. The county fair had moved to another town almost ten miles from here. It seemed that our situation was quite hopeless. We could not afford to stay in one place for too long - we had to keep moving until Erik deemed it safe enough for us to settle down.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in front of the town's only hospital. A dark-haired man, dressed in colorful garb was carrying a young child in his arms, begging the doctor for help. "My daughter is ill! Please help her!"

But the doctor just shook his head and told the man to leave. The woman who was with him was weeping hysterically. It was strange to see them seek medical help in this fashion. The close-knit Gypsy clans moved through the countryside in brightly painted wooden wagons and camped near farms. They seldom wandered into towns unless there was a county fair going on.

I was drawn to this family's plight as they continued to beg for help.

"There is nothing more I can do for her," the doctor said coldly as he turned away in disgust and shut the door in their faces. The other townspeople also shunned them like the plague. Defeated, the family walked back in the direction whence they came. Their painted wagon was parked at the edge of the town and they had three beautiful horses grazing peacefully nearby. A thought came to my mind – Erik knew how to heal the sick using the knowledge of Gypsy healing methods and the family had a horse that we needed badly. Perhaps they could agree to a trade – a life for a horse. If only I could convince Erik to save the child…

"Excuse me, Monsieur," I said loudly to the Gypsy man.

He turned and looked at me guardedly. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I can't help but notice that the child is ill," I said, stepping forward. "I know someone who can help her..."

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

"No!" Erik said in a determined voice. "Tell them to leave now!"

"Erik, please hear me out… These people have nowhere else to turn to! Their entire clan is nearly wiped out by the same contaminated water that infected the town we'd been in a few days ago. You know the cause… you've seen the bodies…"

"I cannot perform miracles!"

"Erik, they are willing to give us a horse in exchange for your help… All they are asking is for you to take a look at their little daughter," I said as the family waited anxiously outside his tent. "These people are innocent… They were not the ones that tortured or condemned you to a life in a cage… why punish them for a crime they didn't commit?"

I was afraid that I had gone too far as he looked as if he was going to strike me. My stubbornness was going to be the death of me one day.

"You know nothing of what I've been through!" he roared. "They showed me no mercy! The tears I had shed, the lonely terror and fear… I hate them… I hate them all!"

"I had hoped –"

"For what?" he sneered. "A change of heart? Remorse perhaps?"

I turned away abruptly. "Clearly I was mistaken… If anyone believed in second chances, I thought it would be you," I said bitterly.

Pushing back the tent flap, I walked out to the Gypsy family and thought hard about what I would say to them. Their eyes were filled with so much hope that I did not have the heart to turn them down but Erik's decision was final – he would not lift a hand to help them.

With a heavy sigh, I gazed at the little girl lying limp in her father's arms and said, "Monsieur Roman, I… I'm very sorry –"

"Where is the girl?" Erik's voice suddenly boomed.

A gasp came from the child's father as he stared at Erik, on his face a mixture of expressions ranging through utter disbelief to fear. Turning, I saw Erik standing behind me, looking menacing yet majestic in his white mask and cloak. I turned to Roman and said with an assuring smile, "This is Erik… He is the one I speak of… He will help your child."

Roman nodded cautiously as he laid the girl in a makeshift stretcher and backed away, allowing Erik to look at her.

Erik moved soundlessly to the girl and felt her pulse. The girl had lost consciousness, completely insensitive to his presence. "When did she become like this?"

The poor man swallowed hard. "Yesterday, when her older brother… my son died…"

"It's not too late for her," Erik said solemnly as he gazed up at Roman. "I need herbs from your medicine woman's caravan. Where is it?"

The Gypsy camp was deathly quiet as Roman led us into the campsite. I could feel the gloominess of the place, the hopelessness of their cause. No one made an attempt to stop Erik as we walked to an old caravan, plaited with vines and creepers. Their medicine woman had also died from the cholera – even she could not cure herself. The interior of the caravan was exotic, with many crocks and jars, bunches of herbs, wrapped papers of dried things, a woodland apothecary store. Erik found the herbs he needed and pulled out the ancient copper pans. He started to heat an infusion to help cure the girl of cholera. I watched in wonder as he mixed and stirred in the ingredients, like a wizard brewing a spell in a boiling cauldron. At last, he poured the infusion through a sieve into a bottle.

"Take this and give it to the girl," he said to me. "One spoonful every hour until she regains consciousness… Isolate her from the healthy ones. Get the women to provide clean sheets, blankets and boiled water…"

My head was swimming with instructions as I tried to remember everything Erik had said.

"Are you sure you understand my instructions?" he persisted, "Absolutely sure? This is a highly contagious disease and I don't want you to fall ill…"

I looked up at him and sensed his deep concern. "Yes, I know what I'm supposed to do, Erik…And I will be careful…"

"Promise me that you will come to me the instant you feel nauseous…"

"Yes, I promise…"

Erik sighed as I turned and walked out of the medicine woman's caravan with the cure.

After three days, she lived. The girl lived.

Roman gave a cry of relief as his daughter's eyelids fluttered open and she murmured softly, _"Papa…"_

Bearing the good news, I burst into the medicine woman's caravan which was Erik's temporary residence. "Micha's alive!" I cried joyously as I went to him. "You're a genius!"

Erik looked up from the book he was reading. "She was a challenge," he said quietly.

_A challenge?_

Shaking my head in disbelief at his apparent aloofness, I grinned widely and said, "Your motivations are unusual but what matters is that you saved her…"

He snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf without a word.

"Oh, I never doubted your abilities, Erik. You have done a good thing and as such, you will gain the rewards that follow," I continued, thinking about the new horse that Roman would present to us later.

"Do you think I have need of anything that they can give me?" he said shortly, in the grip of some fierce and ugly emotion that I found impossible to comprehend.

"I… I thought that we have need of a horse," I backed away from him slowly as he advanced upon me. The caravan was small and there was hardly any space to maneuver inside. I could not think why my words should have made him so uncontrollably angry.

"_A horse?_" he said and burst out in sarcastic laughter.

"I… I don't understand," I gasped.

Erik stopped abruptly and the hand that had been reaching out to touch my face fell limply at his side. He drifted to the window and looked out with an absence that made me wonder what he was thinking.

"Everyday, I see you among the sick and dying," I heard him murmur distantly. "Everyday, I wonder if this would be the last time that I…we..."

Erik didn't have the chance to tell me what has been bothering him as there was a urgent knock on the door and Nadir peered in.

Angered by the intrusion, Erik glared at Nadir. "What do you want?"

Nadir just smiled. "Erik… Meg… I think you should come out and see this."

Outside the medicine woman's caravan was a large group of sick people, young and old who were afflicted with the cholera. They had heard of Micha's amazing recovery and had come to seek Erik's help. Seeing the masses, he then divided the patients to three separate groups, depending on the severity of their ailment. I helped to organize the women to provide clean sheets, makeshift beds, boiled water and administered Erik's potions to the sick. Out of the ten patients, seven survived.

Although Erik did not mingle freely with the Gypsies, I noticed that he passed by all of his patients at night, wandering from tent to tent when they were asleep, like a ghost. Food, trinkets and money seemed to appear at Erik's doorstep each morning as the days went by and Roman presented us with a fine horse of Romany stock, as promised. We never spoke of our encounter in the medicine woman's caravan – Erik seemed to have forgotten about it as he set about curing his patients but I didn't and it bothered me. Has his desire for me cooled?

Slowly, life began again for the Gypsy clan as they recovered from the terrible disease that nearly wiped them out. They were fortune tellers, dancers, fiddlers and horse traders, wanderers in an ever-changing landscape. Music and dancing drew out the occupants from painted wagons to the bonfire at night as Nadir and I watched as outsiders. The freedom of movement was a personal and spiritual expression, their music a passionate blend of melancholy and independence. Theirs was a life steeped in the love of music and the occult –a life separated from the respectable middle-class existence I had known before. I could see why Erik was touched by their inspiration and concepts of beauty and mystery.

One day, Micha's mother came to me with a bundle of clothes - a floral blouse with puffed sleeves, a bodice made from heavy embroidered tapestry, a tasseled scarf and a long-flowing skirt. Beads, coins and a plethora of accessories were sewn onto the fabrics.

"These are for you," Rissi said. "I made them myself."

"It's beautiful," I gushed, admiring the colorful skirt and blouse that she had made. "But I cannot accept them. You've already been so kind to us."

"I insist," she said firmly. "It's my way of thanking you for saving Micha's life. And besides, our leader has decided that we will have a feast to honor you and your friends tonight. You can wear this..."

I stared at the dress thoughtfully.

Would Erik be there tonight? I wondered. He was never one to participate in social gatherings.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

"So he's not your lover, is he?" Rissi stood behind me as I looked at myself in a faded brass mirror for the fiftieth time. "Then why do you worry about your looks? It is not for any of the men around here, that's for sure!"

I looked at my outfit, cobbled together from the gold finery that Rissi loaned me. While, a gypsy woman's dress was free flowing and not confined to corsets and other restrictive contraptions, the low-cut blouse and bodice did show a scandalous amount of cleavage. I wasn't a vain person in particular but tonight seemed different from other nights – a sort of reckless anticipation. Rissi was referring to the rumors that were circulating in the clan about Erik and me. Yes, she was not the only one who had hinted that we could be romantically involved.

"Don't listen to the rumors," I replied, shrugging off her remark.

I ran a brush through my hair one last time, deciding on wearing it down.

"Hmmph..." she scoffed. "What? Like I don't see the way he looks at you…or you at him. Come. You won't look any better than you do now. Except when you get married..."

Rissi went into another part of the caravan and pulled out a very old box containing a set of Tarot cards. I had seen these cards before in fortune-telling booths on Coney Island. Why would anyone want their life to be dictated by a deck of cards?

"Sit down with me. I tell your future," she ordered.

Giving Rissi an exasperated look, I sat down gingerly in front of her as she shuffled the cards and placed three in a row, faced down.

"I don't believe in divination," I told her flatly.

"Perhaps it will reveal to you what you are afraid to confront up till now," she said with a wry smile.

"I don't think so."

This was ridiculous, I thought but a part of me was curious as Rissi began to reveal each card.

"Ah, the Magician!" she stated as I stared at the card which was red and white, a small wand, a table with a chalice, a pentacle and a sword. The next card was a man and a woman and the last, a man in colorful motley clothes, pack tied to a staff, a small dog and a cliff. What did all these symbols mean?

"Each card represents your past, present and future," Rissi explained. "The person you are thinking of was in the past someone you had admired. Now in the present you see him a little differently, perhaps, in a romantic way."

"What is the last card?" I found myself asking.

"The Fool," she replied with a furrowed expression. "This card is for you. It is a card of infinite possibilities. It means a new beginning but do not be too optimistic about the future, lest you stumble and fall."

I was taken aback by the cards opened in front of me. How was it possible that the cards could reveal the feelings I had about Erik?

"Meg, trust your instincts to choose this person whom you're so strongly drawn to, no matter how scary, how difficult, irrational or troublesome, because without him, you will never be wholly you. This is true love. Go for it!" Rissi encouraged.

Laughing nervously, I thanked her for the invaluable advice and walked out of her caravan towards the campfire.

It was full of new friends that I had found here. Trilling music, accompanied by the throb of fiddles, filled the cold night air. All around, they danced and laughed and talked as the liquor flowed freely. I surveyed the crowd, seeking a specific face and found what I sought near the bonfire. Erik was here!

He was dressed in a formal dress shirt and black pants with a cape over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the burst of colors surrounding him. I saw the look in his eyes and knew immediately knew that he thought I was beautiful. That thought simultaneously warmed and frightened me. Taking a deep breath, I went to him and held out a hand.

"Erik!" I called out with a smile. "I thought you'd never come here."

"This feast is in my honor… I will not miss it," he replied as he took my hand and planted a chaste kiss on it. Erik was about to tell me something when suddenly, Micha appeared and grabbed my arm and pulled me among the dancers. "Meg, come and dance with me, please?"

I smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Wouldn't you rather dance with one of the boys?"

The little girl made a horrible face. "Uck. No! I want to dance with you. Please?"

"Oh, all right… but you'd have to teach me," I laughed.

We began twirling about the bonfire, imitating the other dancers. It was an exhilarating feeling watching Micha, screaming with laughter, firelight glinting in her hair and eyes, flushed with health while my skirts swirled around my ankles.

The forest spun about me in a smear of color, Micha's hot little hands clasped in mine. Finally, I was out of breath.

"No more," I rasped, laughing. Micha and I staggered a little as we stopped. Impulsively, I grabbed the girl into a quick hug. "Thank you."

A gaggle of girls absorbed Micha into their group and I waved to her before turning back to where Erik had stood. He was looking at me intensely, a ravening hunger that his mask cold not disguise. I felt a funny flutter in my stomach, which made my own smile falter. Suddenly, he looked away, wrapped himself back into his cloak and disappeared from the party.

I hesitated only a moment before deciding to follow him.

"Erik, where are you going?" I called out to him.

He did not look at me. "I wish to be alone. Go back to the feast," he said abruptly.

I was not going to let it go so easily. "Something is bothering you. What is it? Tell me…please."

Erik's shoulders hunched painfully as he wept in a sudden display of grief.

"I am unhappy because I want you, because my mind has seized on you and thinks of nothing else. This is how I suffer, I am sick with longing, longing for the happiness that a man and woman share when they are together… When I saw you out there, dancing with them, I suddenly realized that I cannot have you. I was a fool to even suggest that there was a possibility that you...You belong with them! Not with a madman like me! I cannot act like this is enough because it has to be."

"Erik-"

"Damn you! I'm asking you to make a choice – come to me willingly or leave now and we will forget all this ever happened," he said steadily.

My heart nearly stopped beating when I heard him. He did not wait for my reply but left me standing alone with my thoughts. When he had gone, I sat down on a nearby rock as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Rissi's words reminded me to trust my instincts and they were telling me to go to Erik. Too long had I dreamed of this moment, a picture perfect scene of our wedding night where he would declare his love for me with God as our witness and finally make me his wife. I never imagined it would be like this. It was cruel the way he forced the decision on me. Was this his way of telling me he loved me? I knew one thing for sure - I loved him. Wiping away the tears that rolled down my cheeks, I stood up and walked down the path that led to his tent.

I entered his tent, announcing my presence by simply being there, standing there. I felt myself slip again. Only this time I didn't step back from the edge- I simply let myself fall, a slight sense of vertigo giving way to the certainty that I wanted to be here, with this man, more than I wanted anything.

"If you do not want me, if you have come with no feeling for me, then go!" he said, his softness turned suddenly cruel. "Go! Go NOW! Leave!"

Stung by his change of tune, I took a step towards him and eyes filling with tears of anger, I hit him hard across the face, the mask falling away to the ground. "How dare you! You have no idea what you have done to me, have you? Don't take my heart from me just because you can and leave me like this. I love you. Don't shut me out, Erik."

I had expected him to be angry but his face slowly lit up. I was shocked by my own outburst, as we faced each other at this very moment of profound awareness of each other. With each new breath, with every moment, the promise of intimacy was confirmed and reconfirmed. I could only guess how I looked to him with my face flushed and my eyes bright.

There was nothing planned, only our feelings and emotions to guide our instincts. Then, moving with fluid harmony, we moved towards each other, mouths meeting in a desperate kiss. Erik's face crumpled with the exquisite pain of his pleasure as I responded eagerly. He struggled through my dress as he pulled the sleeves of my blouse down, exposing my shoulders and breasts. I leaned back and he followed me down unto the soft rugs, my body melting beneath his. My hands roamed his neck and shoulders, he felt so good. I wanted to feel all of him.

His eyes suddenly welled with tears and he looked into mine like a child after a bad dream, fearful and trusting. "I was hoping you would come," he whispered anxiously.

"Touch me, Erik..."

My hand came up to unbutton his shirt, to caress his chest and down his back. Erik grabbed nervously at his shirt but I unclenched his fist and once more, slowly pulled off his shirt as he closed his eyes, breathing heavily and relieved.

Slowly, Erik reached for the candle holder and pinched out the flame with his long fingers. Like a pair of lovers and intoxicated by the presence of each other, we kissed and caressed with urgency and affection. I loved the feel of his weight against me. His hands started to skim up and down my bare thighs, nudging the skirt higher and leaving a shivery trail of heat.

My body arched unabashedly to his touch. I was sighing with ecstasy, these small sounds were extraordinarily moving as they convinced him to venture lower, peppering my body with kisses until he reached between my legs, savoring the flavor of my skin. Erik was muttering things I did not hear, his lips were evoking feelings never felt before. What happened next was a haze of lust and abandon, rough hands against smooth skin, mouths nipping and tongues dueling.

A tingle of pleasure in the pit of my stomach began to swell into a roaring fire. Like a moth succumbing to the flames, I gave myself to him as I cried out his name in the darkness.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo….

**Author's Note**: Third time's the charm!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Arms and legs still in a tangle, unwilling to let go even in a semi-conscious state, we fell into an exhausted sleep. It was still dark, in the wee hours of morning when I stirred, hands reaching out across to where Erik had lain, feeling his residual warmth. Drowsily, I blinked my eyes at the empty space next to me, then sat up to look around the tent, pulling a blanket protectively around my naked body. _Where did he go?_ I wondered. _And where are my clothes?_

Flashes of memories from when I first met Erik up until last night ran rampant through my mind – the very memory of the hot swirling darkness, the memory of rapture and of the ecstasy of surrender marked my first time with Erik.

Somewhere in there, a rational mote of thought reasserted itself about what the consequences might be once this night was over. Would he still want me? If he did, why wasn't he here? A crushing weight so much that I could hardly breathe settled on my chest at this realization. For one long second I thought he had regretted last night, then when I saw him come in carrying an oil lamp and my worry cleared, a relieved smile gracing my face.

"You are awake," his voice was low and husky.

"Where did you go?" I asked.

"I... I didn't want to frighten you in case you woke up and... saw my face," he replied hesitantly, lingering at the entrance of the tent as if waiting for my permission to approach.

"Erik, I'm not afraid of you... not anymore," I said, holding out my hand to him.

He came and sat next to me on the soft rugs, a frown appearing on his forehead.

"I... I hope I didn't hurt you... last night."

There was a mixture of curiosity and guilt in his statement. He wanted to know the truth and the truth was that there should be pain, it was to be expected for any girl who had just lost her virginity. In all honesty, the pain did not strike me as much as the pleasure that came after. "The pain was not as bad as I expected," I told him with a reassuring smile, a blush rising to my cheeks. "You were so strong and... and I was overcome."

"Meg, I..."

I quickly raised a hand to run my fingers over his deformed lips and said, "Yes, I wanted it to be with you…"

The sheet slipped down as I let go of it, pooling around my hips, baring my body to him. He responded keenly to the sight as his hand slipped to the back of my neck, drawing me to him. I sighed delightedly at his touch, curling my arms around his neck.

Erik kissed me, a light, teasing touch of the lips and I responded likewise. He nudged me back unto the rugs gently, stripping the rest of the sheet off and settling his long form over mine. He was warm, and eager, his hands roaming over my feverish skin. Capturing my fingers in his, he held my wrists together above my head as he continued to kiss me in a slow, languid worship of his mouth to mine that left me writhing against him, whimpering his name. We made love again before the entire camp woke up to a new morning.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

"Did you sleep well last night?" Rissi tried to sound innocent but failing miserably when she saw me walk into her caravan to return the jewelry that she loaned me the night before.

"Very well, thank you," I responded, trying to ignore her quirky smile.

"Was it as you expected?"

"Rissi!"

She laughed and nodded. "You don't have to tell me, Meg… You are absolutely glowing!" she said, hugging me. "I'm happy for you."

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, in wonderment, as if I had changed, as everything else had changed. Now, I was a woman in love – I wanted this love which I thought was impossible but now I had it.

We parted ways in a tearful farewell as the Gypsies headed west while we journeyed south. Erik seemed seized with this energy and excitement as he wanted to show me a surprise. He refused to tell me what it was in spite of all the threats I made.

"Patience, my darling," he admonished gently as Nadir grinned at us.

Nadir knew that Erik and I had become lovers, perhaps Erik had told him and he respected my choice. Sometimes, I wondered whether Nadir had resigned himself to a fatherly figure to both Erik and I in this dysfunctional family of ours. It wasn't the ideal of circumstances and the ever present threat of the Hashashins made him a useful ally and a trusted friend.

We passed quaint little towns as pretty as tapestries – timbered farmhouses and dirt paths filled with prosperous little shops, saloons and inns. Finally, we came to a wood clearing in a misty valley. Erik stopped his horse, admiring the view. In the middle of this clearing was a large, old, two-story lodge at the top of a slight rise, surrounded by thick, rolling woods. The fields were overgrown with weeds, the gardens abandoned. The chickens had deserted the hen house and were wandering around the outbuildings, scuffing at the packed dirt.

"I found this place quite by accident while traveling. This is going to be our home for now," he told me.

"It's smaller than my estate in Mazanderan but it has potential," Nadir commented. "I don't know about the two of you, but I'm a little saddle weary from all the traveling."

"Is this it?" I stared blankly – he made all this fuss just to show me this place?

At once, Erik was aghast. "Did you expect more? What were you expecting?"

"Oh, I thought it would be a little less… intimidating."

He nodded, reassured. "I know it needs some fixing, repair and a coat of fresh paint. We will be happy here."

"I'm sure of it," I said, smiling at him.

The reconstruction of the lodge swallowed Erik's time whole as he went to the site before dawn and seldom leaving before midnight. I had never seen him so utterly absorbed in his work. It became a grave concern that Nadir voiced to him one evening. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he demanded.

Erik waved off his question. "Don't be ridiculous, Nadir! Winter will soon be upon us. I don't want us to freeze to death without a roof over our heads."

"Twenty hours a day," continued Nadir. "You still have to eat and rest."

"Nadir is right… Erik, please understand. We're worried about your health," I added slowly.

With weary resignation, Erik promised he would not return to the building site that night. Retiring to his tent, he drew me into his arms and then we lay down together silently on the soft rugs fully clothed, simply comfortable to be with each other. He was wide awake as he stroked my hair absently, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"I will be going to Philadelphia for a few days," he said. "There are some items I need to source for the lodge."

The city of Philadelphia was about two days' journey from our lodge and already, I knew I would miss Erik. Propping my head on one elbow, I gazed at him. "Let me go with you."

Erik smiled. "No, Meg. There is no need for you to accompany me. Wait for me here."

Before the roosters crowed, Erik was gone. I had never been to Philadelphia but had heard that it was a bustling industrial town with large factories and workshops. Immigrants flowed into Philadelphia from other parts of America in search of jobs. There, Erik managed to obtain the services of a runner – a man from the back streets of town to purchase raw materials for the lodge; cement, nails, tools and basic provisions that we could not grow or make.

One day, I found a sewing machine and bales of cloth among the items that Erik had purchased. There was enough for dresses and curtains, bedsheets and coverings.

"Where did you get this?" I asked in shock. "All this must have cost a fortune! How on earth could we afford this luxury?"

Surely, our finances were dwindling considerably with all the purchases that we had made in these past few weeks. Erik was not an enormously wealthy man but he had extravagant tastes.

"I'm well aware of our finances, my dear. I have started a small contracting business in Philadelphia to build houses for the _nouveau riche_…"

I stared at him. Erik appeared to have planned it out to every last little detail.

"I promised that I will take care of you and I intend to keep that promise," he said gently as he reached out to touch my cheek.

"You really mean it… That this is going to be our home…"

He nodded.

I laughed as I threw my arms around him, feeling wonderfully complete at last.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

One evening, I came to the lodge and found Erik working alone in the basement. I marveled how he could see in this abysmal light. Erik's head shot up in surprise to see me.

"It's very quiet here," I said, almost to myself as I looked around his workplace.

"You shouldn't come down here. It's not safe," he advised cautiously.

"If it's safe for you, then it's safe for me…"

"I was in the construction business long before you wore your first ballet slippers," he countered.

"Please, Erik," I said with a pout. "Do you really have to emphasize how much older you are to me? Come with me, darling… I missed you."

It was all I needed to say as he pulled me unto his lap and kissed me urgently. We did not make it back to his tent but lay naked on the cold hard floor of the basement, clothes strewn about and our bodies entwined after hours of kissing, touching, and exploring each other in intimate ways.

"I've never been this safe before," I teased.

Erik smiled. "The next time, we'll have a proper bed…"

Laughing delightedly, I buried my head into his shoulder and sighed. I could feel my heart swell with love for him and wondered if any woman had ever loved a man as I loved Erik.

There was plenty of work to do from sun up to sunset – fences to mend, sewing, weeding the vegetable farm and fixing the lodge which would soon be our home. On our free time, I would be invited to join Nadir and Erik on fishing trips by the river or exploring the surrounding forests. Months passed and the crisp autumn air began to blow. Summer had come and gone and the trees have begun to transform into shades of yellows, oranges and blazing reds.

I was washing clothes in the river one morning and a beaver stuck its sleek, dripping face up from the water and eyed me inquisitively. _Hello, neighbor…_ it seemed to say as I playfully splashed water at it. For a moment, the beaver did not move, staring, defiant. Then it dove out of sight.

Chuckling, I stripped off my dress impulsively and bent down, taking off my shoes and stockings as well. Clad in only my thin chemise, I strolled along the sand bar, adding footprints to the tracks of bobcats, minks, otters and deer as the ice cold water lapped against my toes. Erik had taught me how to recognize these animal tracks when we were out exploring.

"Mr. Beaver? My name is Meg," I called out, giggling. "I wish to swim in your backyard."

Taking a deep breath I plunged into the cool depths of the river. It was a good, clean feeling – no more thoughts, no more worries, nothing beyond these woods. As I surfaced, I felt the sun in my face and smiled. Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, I climbed unto a large rock and basked in the warmth of the sun, like a lazy cat. Erik was right - I loved this place and I wanted to stay forever. Suffused with a sense of contentment I had never known before, I rolled over to find my dress. My hair was still damp and tangled but the chemise was almost dry when I picked up my dress. Suddenly, I noticed a tall figure silently taken refuge behind the riot of trailing foliage and started.

"Erik! I thought you were at the lodge," I said, keenly aware of the chemise still clinging on to the curves of my body.

For a long moment, he did not move and then slowly, he unfurled himself from the shadows to glide across the sand bank towards me. "I was at the lodge but I came to find you," he claimed, looking at me barefooted and wet, with the sand sliding off my feet.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, I demanded, "How long were you sitting in the bushes, observing me?"

"It wasn't my intention, Meg… I was curious as to what you were doing in the river."

"What does it look like to you?" I challenged, grinning at his expression. "I went for a swim…"

"_You could swear that the goddess had emerged  
from the waves, pressing her hair with her right  
hand, covering with the other her sweet mound  
of flesh; and where the strand was imprinted by  
her sacred and divine step, it had clothed itself  
in flowers and grass; then with happy, more than  
mortal features, she was received in the bosom  
of the three nymphs and cloaked in a starry garment…_

Poliziano... He was describing the birth of Venus, the goddess of Love," Erik recited from his memory. "You see, love and all depictions of it eluded me in my earlier years as I traversed the globe. I was naturally drawn to it, yet never fully understanding the concept until I saw you this morning and Poliziano's words came to life. Perhaps you could invite me for this excursion the next time," he murmured, stepping closer to finger the hem of my dress thoughtfully. My cheeks flushed crimson as a very intimate image emerged in my mind.

"Um, I… err, will try to remember it. Did you want something?" I said, quickly changing the subject.

Erik grinned at my discomfiture and restraint as he kissed the hem of my dress with reverence, a sign that made me quiver with pleasure. "Oh, yes. The furniture for the lodge has just arrived…"

The runner had transported the furniture in a wagon drawn by two horses. There were cabinets, drawers, tables, chairs, beds and boxes of smaller items. He was a young man, barely out of his teens with crooked teeth and a nervous gait. He had been waiting anxiously beside the horses when Erik and I returned to the lodge. I saw his eyes widen with disbelief as he stared at me for a moment.

"Mario," Erik said. "I would like you to meet Mademoiselle Giry."

"It is a great honor to meet you, Missy," he said, removing his hat.

"Here is your wage for today…I trust you will not divulge this location to anyone else," Erik said, handing a wad of money to him.

"Oh, no… Sir! I swear it!" Mario said, crossing himself. I could tell that he was afraid of Erik. His ability to strike fear into the hearts of men was our guarantee that our secret hideout would be safe.

"Very well…I will let you know if I need anything else."

"Thank you, sir… and God bless you both!"

Mario quickly left with the horses as we started unloading the furniture into the lodge.

Erik had moved all of my furniture into my appointed room which had the best view of the land. All around me, I noticed Erik's thoughtful concern; the lowered mirror to a height appropriate for me, a chair made smaller, the shelves and hooks lowered. But why weren't my things in _our_ room?

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, everything is… perfect," I replied, almost choking with emotion. "Except that, I just want to say something and I don't know how to begin…"

"You know you can say anything to me, Meg."

I took a deep breath and let it all out. "I thought that we would… we would be sharing… the same room."

Erik's eyes widened with surprise.

"Meg, I want you to be absolutely sure that it is what you want and not force you to share the bed with me. I can wait until we are properly married," he said, smiling weakly.

"I…"

His fingers brushed my lips, gently silencing. "I'm giving you a choice…You do want to marry me, don't you?"

Tears blurred my vision. "Oh, Erik… yes, I want to marry you. I love you and I belong to you, only you."

"Meg…"

His voice was gruff as he bent down and sought my lips with his. Our kiss grew ravenous as Erik picked me up in his arms and laid me down on the bed. He was leaning in for a kiss, hands gliding up my skirt when there was a tap at the door. His eyes closed for a second, obviously searching for patience.

"Meg, dinner is ready," said Nadir outside the door. "Do you know where Erik is? I cannot seem to find him anywhere."

"I'll be out in a minute, Nadir and no, I don't know where Erik is," I replied, looking up at Erik and giving him a mischievous wink.

"Oh, right. I'll see you downstairs then," said Nadir.

As soon as I heard Nadir's footsteps disappear down the stairs, I gave Erik a quick peck on the lips and whispered, "Later, Erik…"

He groaned with disappointment. "This is going to be the most awkward meal of my life!"

I knew what he meant when I noticed the 'awkward' bulge straining against his pants. Still unwilling to let me leave, he murmured seductively into my ear, "Dinner can wait…"

"Be quiet!" I shushed him and ignored his plea. "Nadir is going to know that you are here."

"He probably does… He was formerly the chief of Persian police," said Erik sullenly as I got up from the bed.

Smoothing down my dress and rearranging my hair, I went to the door. "Even so, I'm famished after today's hard work…"

"Meg!"

"See you downstairs!" I responded, closing the door behind me. I tried not to think about the consequences of my rebuff but I was sure that Erik was not about to let this pass easily. A sweet shudder of pleasure coursed through my body as my mind ran rampant with the wicked things that Erik would do to me later.

When the last furniture was in place, we celebrated the completion of the lodge with red wine and a nice cooked meal that Nadir and I had prepared. It was the first civilized meal we had since we left New York City; porcelain plates, silver cutlery, dainty cups on saucers, wine glasses, candles and fresh flowers on the table. I gave a sigh of contentment at this calmness and domesticity and I was sure that Nadir and Erik felt it too. We decided to name our new home, "_La Belle Maison_".

…ooo…ooo….ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: Ah, bliss! Thanks so much for your reviews. TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

By the time the first snow fell, we were fairly self-sufficient; our vegetable garden yielded fresh greens and the trees that we had planted in our orchard were growing well. The single cow and hens provided all our dairy needs. On our occasional trips to the nearest town, I would only need things that we could not grow or make, like coal, cooking oil, soap, fabrics and shoes. Winter in the valley was so cold and dreary that no one dared to venture out unless it was absolutely necessary. Confined to the lodge, we would stay up all night, retelling old stories, playing card games, eating and drinking our own wine.

The only thing conspicuously missing in our perfect La Belle Maison was music and song. Music was the keystone of Erik's extraordinary genius, music was Erik but he had showed no signs of interest in the subject. It shouldn't bother me but I could feel its gaping absence and I wondered if my love was enough to make him happy. I still had my doubts that he had forgotten Christine and I was afraid that if I were to bring up the past or even mention about his music compositions, he would withdraw from me, leaving me heartbroken and alone. At night, I lay back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling and wondering how I was going to avoid this situation much longer. Suddenly, I realized that my castle of dreams was built on ever-shifting sands and that one day, the ocean tide was going to wash it all away.

One day, as I was going about with the house chores, there was a soft knock on my door. "Meg?"

I looked up and saw Erik standing at the doorway. "Erik! I thought you would be out for the whole day," I said, surprised.

"Would you please come downstairs with me? We have a guest," he said gravely.

My heart was beating rapidly as I took Erik's outstretched hand and followed him. "A guest?" I echoed uncertainly but Erik gave nothing away. Since when did we have guests at our place?

Standing in the living room was Nadir and a man in a priest's cassock, clutching the Bible to his chest. I gazed quizzically at Erik. Why was a priest here? What was going on?

"Meg," Erik stepped forward. "This is Father McKinley from the Parish of St. John… He is here at my request actually..."

Then, he turned to me and said gravely, "I should have given you ample notice but it is not every day that a priest would agree to perform the sacrament of matrimony. That was why this is all so sudden. This is not ... the grand wedding I had hoped to give you ... I wish to marry you, Meg. Is your answer yes?"

"It is," I whispered, gazing ardently at Erik.

"Excuse me for a moment. I would like to clarify a few things here," said Father McKinley nervously. "Firstly, this gentleman here did request for my attendance but I never thought I would be traveling with a bag over my head!"

"It is for your own good, Father," said Nadir coolly.

"Well, I normally don't request for spirits from a woman… tis' bad manners but would you kindly pour me a glass of whiskey? Tis' for my nerves," Father McKinley said to me. The poor man was frightened out of his wits.

"Of course…"

I quickly went into the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey.

Father McKinley took it gratefully. "Thank you, my dear."

"I hope you weren't hurt during your journey here," I said as he calmed down after the drink.

"No… no… just a little shaken, that's all."

"Thank God!" I whispered with a sigh. To think that Erik and Nadir had kidnapped this man of God from his parish was quite beyond me, even if it was for our wedding.

Giving Erik a brief glance, Father McKinley said to me, "Before I proceed with this ceremony, I wish to speak with you privately, Miss…"

"Giry…" I replied.

Sensing the irritation rising in Erik, I turned to him. "Will you give us a moment, dear?"

"Of course," Erik said tightly as he walked out of the room with Nadir.

I could hear Father McKinley sigh loudly when we were alone.

"What is it that you wish to speak to me, Father?" I asked politely.

"Are you here of your own accord? Or were you taken by force by this masked man and his sidekick?" he demanded. "You need not be afraid to tell me the truth. I can help you get away."

I stared incredulously at him. "Father, there is a grave misunderstanding here. I was not taken by force. I love Erik and I do want to marry him."

"Why does he wear the mask? Have you seen what lies behind it?"

Nodding, I replied, "Yes, I have. It hides a terrible disfigurement… but it does not change how I feel about him."

"You are braver than I thought."

"I see him with my heart, Father…"

Father McKinley stared at me in wonderment and reached out to hold my hand. "God bless you, child. Indeed, you are wise beyond your years… We should call in the groom and his best man while you change into your wedding dress."

"Thank you, Father."

I went to Erik who was waiting anxiously outside. "All is well, Erik. Father McKinley will bless our union," I told him with a smile. "Wait for me in the living room. I wish for Nadir to give me away."

"It would be an honor, Meg," Nadir said with an elegant bow.

While Erik disappeared into the lodge with the priest, I quickly changed into my favorite white dress, brushed my hair and placed a lace veil over my head. Today was my wedding day. Today, I would be married to Erik. _Oh, I wish Maman was here_, I thought sadly. She would have been so happy for us! Yes, I could almost imagine her smiling at us from heaven.

"How do I look?" I asked Nadir as I stepped out of my room, nervously watching for his reaction. Nadir was holding a single white rose in his hand and he gave it to me.

"You have a spot on your right cheek," Nadir pointed out.

Some dirt must have stuck on my face while I was cleaning earlier. Taking a cloth, I attempted to wipe the smear from my face. "Is it off?"

"Let me do that for you," he offered as he leaned closer and with deft fingers wiped the remaining dirt from my face. "There… you look perfect now."

Suddenly, I had this sudden urge to hug my friend as I threw my arms around him. "Thank you, Nadir… and thank you for everything."

Nadir gave me an affectionate squeeze. "I cannot ask for more…"

Then, Nadir released me and placed my hand on his arm. "Shall we go in?"

"Yes."

We walked into the lodge and I was taken by the hundreds of candles that were lit all around the living room. There were no flowers, choirs or guests… just Erik and Father McKinley standing in front of us. Nadir placed my hand in Erik's and stood to the side as Erik and I turned to face the priest.

"We gather now in the sight of God to witness this man and woman bond their lives in matrimonial vow…"

Everything went by like a hazy dream as we both recited our marriage vows to each other. The weight of the gold ring on my finger brought me back to reality as I turned to my husband and felt his cool kiss. It was done – we were married before God. As a wedding gift, Erik presented to me a brown paper package, tied up in a red ribbon. With bated breath, I opened the package which revealed a music sheet. My hands were shaking when I read the title - "_For Marguerite_".

"I couldn't think of an appropriate gift for you and since you love music too, I thought I would write a piece of music, just for you…"

"Oh, Erik!"

My heart swelled with so much joy that I thought it would burst.

"Shall I play it for you?"

I was speechless and could only nod as Erik took out his violin and began to play from memory, the sweet melodious strains filling our home. Oh, how foolish I had been, to be so afraid. My fears of Christine coming in between us were unfounded.

Nadir had the honor of the first dance as we waltzed around the living room. The years in Paris had taught him a few European customs, including the waltz. Then, Father McKinley had to return to his parish. He kissed my cheek, shook Erik's hand and bade farewell. Taking the sack gladly, he pulled it over his head. "I am ready," he declared as Mario took him away.

As we watched Father McKinley disappear down the wooded path, Erik turned to me and said. "Meg, will you wait for me upstairs while I have a word with Nadir?"

Blushing brightly, I excused myself from their presence and retired to our room. I changed into one of my best nightgowns and waited patiently for Erik. He appeared after a while, gently announcing his arrival with a tap on the door. "Meg?"

I looked at him in a daze. "Erik…"

He came in and knelt in front of me by the bed, holding my hands in his. "Meg, is something wrong? Are you unwell?"

"No, nothing is wrong… Everything feels right. It's just that I've been having bad dreams lately and sometimes, I wonder if I am dreaming this all up and wake up one day to find you gone."

Holding my hand to his chest, he let me feel his beating heart. "I am real…not a figment of imagination."

I gave a little sigh as I felt released from some worry. "You are truly my husband now."

"Yes, I am," he murmured as he kissed me urgently.

I lay back on the bed, beckoning for him to love me. Erik sank down on top of me, stroking my hair, neck and shoulders with a hurried touch, peeling away the nightgown, making me shudder with desire...

"Are you happy, Erik?" I said breathlessly.

"I don't know. I've never felt this way before." Then, seeing my frown, he quickly added, "If what I'm feeling these past few months is joy… then, yes… Meg, yes… I am happy."

"I am too."

A wealth of possibilities now descended on me, possibilities that had been choked off by necessity and decision. Now they flooded before my dulled eyes – Erik and I together with a house of little ones, Erik and I amid trivial tasks and arbors, in weariness and with soft tender skin, the brush of lips and a body crooked snugly against me in the dark of the night. It was dawn and I could hear the birds have starting to sing. The sun was coming up and through the curtains I could see a glimpse of blue sky. Erik was asleep beside me as my hand wandered to the roundness of my belly. Was it possible that last night, we made a child? I felt a warm tingle at the thought.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

One day, Erik brought home a surprise for me. It was a puppy that Erik had found at the construction site where he worked. The little pup was caked with filth, weak from hunger and her chocolate-colored paws were entangled in the dirty blanket that Erik had wrapped her with.

"She needs a home," said Erik.

"Oh, she's lovely!" I exclaimed, picking the puppy up with both hands. She was so small she couldn't be more than six weeks old.

The puppy watched me warily, her head on one side, her ears pricked with curiosity at her new environment and strange people.

I turned to Erik and asked, "What shall we call her?"

"Sasha… She will be called Sasha," he replied without hesitation.

It was a good name, I thought with a smile. "Hear that? Your name is Sasha from now on… You'll have a good bath and some warm milk," I told the little puppy and tucking her under my arm, I brought her into the kitchen. With some soap and warm water, I washed out the mud and dirt from her fur coat and made her a bottle of cow's milk. Sasha lapped up the milk greedily until her stomach bulged and was soon asleep in a cot filled with straw and a blanket.

Erik and I watched her sleep with quiet satisfaction. As we retired to our bedroom, Erik said, "I used to have a dog named Sasha. She was killed by the children who lived in the same village…I cannot forget the night she died. I should have never let her out of the house…"

I was horrified as Erik recounted the horror of seeing his dog tortured and killed by his neighbors. He had tried to save her from the mob but was wounded in the fray. A blow to the head was all it took and old Sasha was dead.

"There was nothing you could do to save her," I said quietly as I felt the pain and guilt of the memory that he carried with him.

"I wanted to kill them all… I wanted to burn the entire village and all its occupants from the face of the earth for what they did to Sasha…She was innocent..."

"I will never let that happen to _our_ Sasha," I said determinedly. "There is no one living within a mile from La Belle…We'll be safe here."

But he was not talking about our little puppy. "I'm talking about you, Meg and our... our future children," he said softly.

Even as Erik spoke, I felt a stab of pain in my heart. The topic of children was never brought up till now and I understood Erik's concern. Experience had taught him that everything he held dear would be snatched away from him, just because he looked different.

"I can understand why you're afraid. You're afraid that one day, you will not be there to protect me and the children when there is trouble," I began in a halting voice. "But it does not have to be that way... There is no guarantee that the children will be in any danger or that they'll look like you."

"What if they do?" Erik's voice rose with passion and exasperation. "I cannot have them go through the pain and torment that I have had to bear!"

I swallowed hard, my throat a raw lump of pain. Images of our babies crowded in - the special smell of a newborn, the warmth of a child's arms around my legs and neck and the total trust in their eyes were all lost to me. Was that why he brought back a puppy? Was that a hint that he didn't want children? Why would he want to marry me if he didn't want children?

Slowly, I reached for Erik and made him look at me.

"I risked everything to be with you and you should know by now that I will accept your children and love them fully, even if they look like you... If I could see through the veneer of ugliness to your heart, there will be others who will do the same."

"I was lucky to have found you," he muttered as his fingers brushed my cheeks thoughtfully. "I just wish I had more faith in mankind as you have..."

Moving into his arms, I kissed him lightly on the lips. "You have had a traumatic childhood, Erik. I don't expect you to forget everything and change overnight. Love a little and live a little, day by day and we'll see what the future holds for us..."

Erik sighed as I sensed his quiet acceptance.

"Let's go to bed, darling..."

Taking cue from my kisses, Erik swept me into his arms and carried me off to bed.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

**Author's Note**: I'm taking longer to update as I'm re-writing my story ending! Thanks for your patience and lovely reviews. xoxo


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The first of a series of devastating shocks came in the middle of spring. Nothing, not even Erik could have guessed that our marriage would be severely tested to its very foundations. Erik came to me one day with an interesting proposition. "I will be going to Philadelphia for about a week to discuss business matters with an associate of mine. I wish to take you with me and show you the sights and do some shopping. Would you like that?"

I had been hoping that he would take me along on one of his trips to the city. "I'd love to!" I responded eagerly.

Mario had arranged for suitable accommodations for us at the Rittenhouse Square. I was told that Erik stayed in this apartment whenever he was in town. Our carriage arrived late in the evening and a young porter ushered us through the well-lit entrance while organizing our baggage. I was told to wait in the Reception Room while Erik proceeded to the Registry Desk to sign some forms. The rented apartment was luxurious – fine furniture, tableware and artwork indicated the wealth of its owners. Erik had ensured that my stay in Philadelphia was comfortable.

Erik had gone off to the site early next morning and I was alone in the apartment. Loneliness and boredom drove me into the streets where I spent some time visiting the surrounding park and quaint little shops. The city sidewalks were bustling with ordinary folk as they hurried about in the cold and the threat of rain. Despite the gloomy outlook, the fresh air and exercise lifted my spirits considerably. Frosty gusts of wind forced me to seek shelter in a shop and there in the glass showcase was a standing piano. Entering the shop, I went to the display. My heart skipped a beat as I ran my fingers absently across the keys, warm and perfectly pitched tone. Suddenly, a thought crept into my mind.

"_He plays so beautifully," Christine told me once a long time ago. "I've never heard anyone play like that before. Sometimes, I just want to sit there for hours just listening to him."_

With a shuddering breath, I turned to the shop assistant who came to me. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked politely.

"I was just admiring your piano."

He nodded, pleased. "I see you have a discerning taste. This is our newest model imported from Germany, one of a kind in these parts…We already have a few interested offers for this beautifully handcrafted instrument."

"How much is it?"

The shop assistant told me a ridiculous amount for the piano. My eyes widened with surprise. Who had bid such a high price for it? I had to know.

A frown appeared on his young face as he replied, "There was a gentleman who came into our shop when the piano arrived a few months ago. He did not give me his name and his face was hidden by a hat and coat. He told me that his name did not matter. So I decided to call him Mr. Y. All I could remember of this man was that his hands were incredibly thin and bony…"

_Erik…_

Erik had been here, standing in front of this piano, running his fingers soundlessly along the ivory keys. Why did he not mention it to me? Surely, he must know that this news was of great significance to me. Was it meant to be a surprise?

"Did he say when he would be coming to collect this item?"

"Next week. He said he would be sending someone to collect it on his behalf."

I thanked the shop assistant and quickly made my way back to the apartment, thoughts swirling in my head about the possibilities and what it all meant. One thing for sure, Erik was starting to compose music again. Such magnitude of creativity could not be suppressed for long.

Erik noticed my distraction that evening. At the dinner table, we ate in silence – the housekeeper, Mrs. Farival served food and wine discreetly and left us to eat in peace. Erik gave a suspicious look at the steak before him. He looked up again, only to find that I was staring at him.

"Is anything the matter, Meg?" he asked.

"No…not at all," I replied, forcing a smile - e_xcept that you neglected to tell me that you had just purchased a bloody expensive piano!_ "How is the food?"

Erik took a tiny bite of the beef, examining its taste as if he suspected poison, during which he said, "This certainly does not taste like steak. I'm sure there is something the matter with it."

He pushed his plate away.

"Perhaps, you prefer fish… I could ask Mrs. Farival to prepare a fillet for you," I offered, finding my steak perfectly satisfactory.

"No, I'm fine… I'm not that hungry," he muttered. "You seem rather quiet this evening. Tell me, where did you go today?"

"Nowhere in particular… I visited the park and some of the shops around here," I answered vaguely. "Erik, I'm just tired. It's been a long day, that's all."

"Then, you must retire to bed!" Erik decided as he ushered me into the bedroom. Gently tucking me under the covers, he wished me a pleasant night and left me to rest. But I could not sleep - a feeling of restlessness overcame me as I tossed and turned in bed.

Very late that night, the sweet sound of the piano in the living room drew me from my bed. How strange! I didn't recall seeing a piano in the living room of the apartment. It was a familiar tune – Chopin's "Nocturne", a piece that I hadn't heard in a long time. I tiptoed barefoot down the corridor and found Erik at the piano, the very same one on display in the shop. Erik was playing with such fierce intensity that he did not know I was there. _I must be dreaming this…_

Suddenly, he stopped playing and looked up from the piano with a smile. "I'm composing a song for us," he said but his eyes were not on me. He was staring past me at something behind me.

"Erik?" I said but he did not hear me. "I am here… in front of you. Can't you see me?"

"Oh, Erik… That is wonderful!" a voice said behind me that made me cringe with horror. The young and beautiful Christine Daae swept past me into Erik's open arms.

"I love you so much, Christine," he whispered as I watched his hand trace the contours of Christine's face, a sensual caress that made her sigh with ecstasy. When they kissed, my hands clenched against the pain.

Shaking from head to foot, I could not get my breath. I felt as though my heart had stopped beating and was standing rooted to the floor, I couldn't turn away from this intolerable vignette. _No, no, no…stop, please!_

"Meg! Wake up… Wake up now. It's just a dream…"

I felt hands shaking me gently as my eyes sprung open in terror. "Erik!" I gasped when I saw him hovering anxiously over me. I gave a cry of relief as I clung to him like a castaway adrift.

"You had a nightmare," he said soothingly. "Everything is all right now."

I nodded and whimpered tearfully, "Don't leave me."

Erik lifted the covers and slipped in beside me. "I'm here, Meg," he said, pulling me close.

What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind? I should not think of it anymore - it was impossible for Christine Daae to be here with Erik. She was with Raoul d'Chagny. She was a Countess, a wife and probably a mother now. Erik was not with her, he was here with me. That thought calmed me as I finally closed my eyes and settled into Erik's arms that night.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

We never discussed the dream that I had last night as Erik felt that I would tell him when I was ready. How could I tell him and risk losing this love which Erik had put within my grasp and with it, Erik? Instead, I chose to hold my piece and be grateful that he deigned to be with me.

"I will arrange to leave the site early today so that this evening, we might take a carriage out to explore the city as I promised," Erik said tentatively, unsure if I was still unwell from last night despite assurances from me that I was perfectly fine.

I looked up with slight surprise. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

There was so much to see in Philadelphia by night. It was a historic city inspired by European architecture. We passed by quiet, deserted streets that would be crowded by people in the day as Erik showed me the city's landmarks. Then, we came to a stop in front of a building, a rather plain and simple design with gas lanterns installed on the exterior.

"Welcome to the Academy of Music," said Erik.

"What is this place?" I asked wonderingly.

"An opera house," he replied. "Modeled after the famous La Scala in Milan…Would you like to see the inside?"

_An opera house?_

I stared at him. "Is it possible? I mean the place should be closed by now…"

"I know a way in…"

He offered his gloved hand to me and I took it, giggling like a little child about to see something amazing. A bolt and a lock could not keep Erik out if he has set his mind to it. We found a side door which was unlocked and sneaked in, climbing the stairs to the highest floor.

I stared at the grand interior of the Academy - featuring an "open horseshoe" shape which offered greater visibility to the audience seated on both sides of the balconies. Supported by fourteen Corinthian columns, the balconies were recessed upward in a tiered fashion and the front of the first balcony was adorned with medallions of stylized design. A huge crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the hall, exquisite carved and gilded wood sculpture decorated the hall. The ceiling had painted murals of allegorical figures.

Erik allowed me to wander around on my own while he disappeared to the rooftop. The place was cold and empty as I explored the backstage of the Academy. I was swept back into the past, of a time at the Opera Populaire – the sights, smells and sounds were all so familiar to me. The dressing rooms were filled with costumes for the singers and dancers. I walked from one room to another, touching the mirrors, tables and chairs, lost in my own thoughts.

Suddenly, I heard a woman's voice echoing off the stage and I froze. A ghost? No, there was someone here. That voice sent a chill down my spine and I shivered – Christine Daae! I could recognize her voice anywhere!

With determined steps, I rushed to the side of the stage, hiding behind the crimson curtains. My eyes were not deceiving me when I saw her, standing on the stage and clutching the hand of a young boy. Christine was wearing a dark green dress and a large feather hat. She looked like she had just stepped off a steamship and she was gorgeous, iconic -every inch a star.

Christine sang a verse from _Faust_ and the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause.

Flashbulbs exploded and the crowd surged toward her. Reporters and photographers shouted, "Christine Daaé! Christine Daaé! Over here! This way!"

I could not believe it! She was here. Christine Daae was here! The reporters and admirers were pounding her with questions as she waved and answered them with grace and style.

"_What will you be singing at the Academy, Christine?"_

"_It is a special surprise… and I hope all of you will be here to hear it!"_

"_You are famous all over Europe! Why Philadelphia? Why aren't you singing at the Met?"_

"_I have never been to America and Mr. Elkins was kind enough to engage my services for the opening night of the new opera season…"_

Suddenly, there was a loud announcement from the bushy bearded man, whom I presumed must be the stage manager. "Excuse me, gentlemen. No more questions for Ms. Daae… You can save the rest for the opening night on Friday!"

The crowd groaned with disappointment and dispersed as Christine and the boy were escorted off the stage.

Shrinking behind the curtain, I leaned back and clutched my chest, trying to breathe normally. My desire for a peaceful and quiet existence and anonymity was rudely shaken by her appearance. What was she doing here, in America? And who was the boy with her? I could scarcely reign in my thoughts when I heard a boy's voice.

"Mommy, when can I go to play? Uncle Ben promised to show me his new flying machine!"

"Patience, Gustave! First let me pick up a few things from my dressing room—"

"And then we'll go look for our friend, Uncle Ben?" rejoined the boy eagerly.

"I'm sure he'll send for you when he's ready. Now, where is my dressing room?" Christine replied as she looked around.

My first instinct was to turn and run. Slowly, I moved backwards and headed for the stage door. Then, she saw me.

"Excuse me, Miss, would you mind –"

I took a deep breath, knowing that I could not avoid our meeting any longer. I turned around and faced her. "_Bon jour_, Christine…"

Christine stopped short as she stared at me. "Heaven help me, could it be - - ? No, it couldn't possibly – Am I dreaming? Sorry, do I?"

I nodded with a smile. "Yes, I think you do… Go on, take a guess!"

Her face lit up. "Wait - - It can't be! - - Is it - - ?"

"Yes!"

Christine ran to me and grabbed my hands. "Oh my God, I can't believe it's you!"

"Look at you, Christine! Regal as a Queen and beautiful!" I complimented her.

"Meg, and you as well! I could hardly tell it's you - - !" Then she pulled me into a fierce hug. "My dear old friend! Can't believe you're here! After all this time we've been apart for too long! You look… Sublime!"

"Thank you!" I said graciously.

"My sweet old friend, never thought we'd meet again," she said.

"Of course…And isn't life a splendid thing?" I remarked.

"And here we are," she sighed. "Are you living here now? When did you leave France?"

I nodded. "I left France many years ago, after Maman passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," gasped Christine.

"I still miss her but life must go on."

"What are you doing here? Are you a dancer with the Academy?"

"No, I am… visiting a friend," I stammered a lie.

"Oh, I see. I didn't know there was someone else here at this time of the night. But I'm sure you have read in the news that I was coming to town," she declared. "And of course as a treat for my son… Meg, meet Gustave…"

I was taken aback. "Your son? Oh my goodness, he's such a tall boy!"

Taking the cue from his mother, Gustave shook my hand cordially. "Madame, it's nice to meet you."

"And you too, Gustave," I responded. "How old are you?"

"I'm eight this year," he declared shyly.

_Eight? Raoul and Christine left for England almost eight years ago. Could that be a coincidence?_

"Meg?" Christine's voice interrupted my thoughts. I recovered quickly with a smile and said, "He looks very much like you."

"And incredibly gifted in music too…" added Christine proudly. "You must come and visit me. I'm staying at the Continental. It's been too long…We have so much to discuss!"

_You have no idea_, I thought ironically.

Christine would not allow me to leave until I agreed and I reluctantly acquiesced to her request. She gave me another hug and was gone, their footsteps fading in the empty hallway. Suddenly, I remembered that Erik was somewhere in the opera house too. I whirled around to see Erik standing behind me, frozen still like a statue. Erik knew that she was here - he had seen her too. His eyes were unfathomable pools as he stared at the spot where Christine had stood.

To my horror, I watched the Erik I knew shrivel and die before my very eyes and I saw a grim and oddly frightening stranger take his place. He swayed slightly, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall, and instinctively, I reached out to hold him. But before I could touch him, he moved away with a dreadful and measured calm. Oh God! I should never have asked to see this place! It was all my fault.

"We must leave now," Erik's voice was like ice, and I obeyed it without hesitation, scrambling out of the building and into the awaiting carriage.

Erik ignored me and we spent the journey back to our apartment in silence. When we reach the apartment, he went straight to the bar and started to down the whiskey with a vengeance, as if he was trying to numb the pain of seeing Christine again. Erik was sliding into the blackest mood that I had ever seen and I was desperate to find a diversion to keep his thoughts away from Christine. What could I say? What could I do?

I never felt so helpless before this. Sighing, I returned to our bedroom but I could not sleep. The space next to me was as cold as the chill in my heart and it pained me that he was still hurting because of her.

_Have faith, Meg_, I told myself. _This is only a temporary setback. Soon, Christine will be gone and life will return to normal. I am Erik's wife and I will hold true to my marriage vows._

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: My version of LND, with a twist! Hope you will enjoy it. xoxo


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The next morning, I noticed Erik slumped in a chair by the fireplace. He had been drinking a little too much last night as evidenced by the number of empty whiskey bottles on the floor. The half-mask was askew and he looked so desolate that I reached out to touch his tear-stained cheek.

"Erik," I murmured.

He stirred a little and mumbled a name that eviscerated my heart – "_Christine…_"

I recoiled as if burned and staggered back, falling into a nearby chair in shock. In his dreams, he even thought of her.

_Christine, always Christine! I hate her!_

Jealousy and frustration rose like bile in my throat as I fled from the apartment. I could not go on pretending that it did not matter. How could I look at Erik and not think of Christine? How could I be his wife knowing that he still loved her?

There was no particular place I wanted to go so I just walked on. Eventually, I realized that I was getting tired and it was already midday. As I slowly returned to a conscious state of mind, I stopped walking, hypnotized by the passing people and carriages at the busy inter-section. I looked up and saw a large building in front of me – the Continental Hotel.

It was a towering six-storey building with stone arches and noble columns. The hotel's ground floor was occupied by stores and in the middle of the lobby was a grand marble staircase. There were many people milling about the reception area – well-dressed gentlemen and women with children, the press with their notepads and cameras waiting for Christine Daae to appear.

I must be mad wanting to see Christine again. Standing in front of the entrance of the Continental, I could almost imagine our meeting –

"_Hello, Christine… I want to tell you that I'm now married to Erik, yes, he was your Angel of Music but he is my husband now…"_

It was useless as I turned away hopelessly, ignoring the surge of the press toward the elevators. Suddenly, I heard Christine's voice above the din.

"Meg!"

Christine came over to me, dressed in a lovely yellow gown of lace and velvet. "I'm so glad you came," she said with a wide smile. "I was about to leave for my rehearsal…"

"Oh, please don't let me keep you," I said, avoiding the curious stares. "I could come and visit another day…"

"Nonsense, darling! Come up, come up and we'll have tea in my suite," she insisted and pulled me into the elevator with her while blowing kisses to the press.

Her suite was opulent and luxurious. Our apartment seemed modest compared to this. Bouquets of flowers and an extravagant number of gift boxes filled the lounge area, a sign of her popularity in Philadelphia. On the dining table was an exquisite diamond necklace with a note from an admirer.

A maid served us tea and set the side table. "How have you been, old friend?" she asked eagerly.

"I've been well…"

Then Christine's gaze fell on my left hand. "Oh, you have a ring on your finger! Are you married?"

"Yes, yes I am." I could not bring myself to tell her who I was married to.

"Oh, I must meet your husband! What is his name?" she asked, pleased.

"His name is… Erik," I answered her, my voice barely a whisper as I looked down at my hands.

Christine's face clouded at the name. I had expected her to fly into some sort of rage or sink into depression but she surprised me.

"Oh, well… isn't this a coincidence? Erik is a very common name," she decided. "I can't wait to meet this lucky man!"

_You would not think so if you knew who he was…_ I thought regretfully.

"Tell me, Christine. Where is Raoul? Is he well?"

At once her smile faded. "Raoul and I have separated for about two years now, ever since I started singing again. He didn't want me to continue my career so I took my son, Gustave and left England. I have traveled all of Europe and this is my first time in America. Oh, Meg… I've seen many things good and bad. My view of the world is utterly changed now."

"Don't you want to go back to being Countess?" I asked, shocked at her admission.

Christine gave a bitter laugh. "I cannot go back without feeling contempt. What an ignorant fool I had been, sheltered and spoiled, I now aspire to the glorious heights of my singing career." Then she gestured to all the flowers and gifts around us. "Everything you see here is from admirers – princes, dukes, lords, sultans, all except the one that I wanted most…my Angel of Music."

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I gripped the chair.

"Christine, the Angel of Music…is gone," I stammered.

"No, I refuse to believe that Erik is gone! I have traveled all over Europe looking for him. Every time I walked into my dressing room, I had hoped that he would appear, just to hear his voice guiding me once more," she said and her face lit up. "Last night, I finally got my wish. He is here, Meg… Erik is here! I'm sure of it. The very air around me pulsed as though it was electrically charged and in spite of his silence, I could sense his presence. I've searched so long and so far for him…"

Suddenly, I felt as if the air in the room was sucked out and I was left gasping. I thought I had the courage to face the truth but now I wasn't so sure I could handle it. Christine still loved Erik after all these years!

She frowned. "Meg, are you all right? You look terribly pale."

"I'm feeling fine…"

She didn't know how badly shaken I was. Christine then smiled knowingly. "You really ought to get a doctor to check your condition… It might be that you are expecting a child."

Speechless, I stared at her as she nodded. "I had a horrible pregnancy – nausea and vomiting the first three months and later, total bed rest till my precious Gustave was born!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," I told her.

_Oh, please God, please do not let this happen to me now_, I prayed silently as I left the hotel with a heavy heart. A child now would only complicate things further. I returned to the apartment and found Erik standing in the doorway.

"You're awake," I said with a smile. He did not move but stood watching me with those wary eyes, as if he knew where I was that day. Shaking off the awkwardness, I took off my coat and hung it on the rack.

"Where were you today?" he demanded.

"I was at the Continental Hotel, visiting Christine," I replied plainly as I refused to resort to idiotic subterfuge. There was no use lying about my whereabouts to Erik. "She is staying at suite number 508…"

Erik was not pleased at all that I had gone to see Christine.

"Why, Meg? You knew the history between Christine and me… Why do you still persist in seeing her? Why pursue something which can result in nothing; as if you would have me bare a wound by speaking about Christine, just for the pleasure of looking at it..."

"Because I have to know!" my voice rose in anger. "All this time I've been with you, I was never sure if you have forgotten Christine… I'm tired of living in her shadow and I won't tolerate her rival affections!"

With a loud roar, he turned on me like an animal cornered. "Don't doubt me, Meg! You're my wife… I chose you!" he shouted with passion and then immediately regretted it. "I don't want you to get hurt..."

Shaken and heartbroken, I moved away from him. "You can say what you want but she still loves you…"

Erik was stunned. "What? What did you just say?"

"Christine still loves you! And in your dreams, you called her name…"

Suddenly, I felt dizzy and my vision blurred. What was happening to me?

"Meg!"

With a swift move, he steadied me with his strong arms and carried me to bed. Erik quickly checked my pulse and put his palm to my forehead. He looked anxious and remorseful, our quarrel quickly forgotten.

"I'm sorry…Please forgive me."

I turned away from him, clutching the blankets to my chest as tears fell. "Go away, Erik… Just leave me alone."

He looked confused and clueless as to what to do. At last, he got up with a sigh and said, "As you wish…"

The door closed with a soft click. He was gone. I slipped off the wedding ring from my finger in despair, letting it fall to the floor in a dull clink as I wept.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The next morning, I saw Erik asleep at the writing desk. Papers were strewn all over the table and spilled ink indicated that Erik had been up all night. Drawn by curiosity, I moved a little closer and found a piece of unfinished manuscript on the floor. The music was nearly completed but the words were still missing. The composition was beautiful, moving and passionate. There was only one person who could inspire Erik to write such beautiful music - Christine. Without thinking, I began to hum the tune. With a start, Erik jumped to his feet at my unexpected intrusion. He looked tired and worn. Pity crowded its way into my heart and I had to fight every muscle in my body not to touch him. The memory of our quarrel stopped me from making any conciliatory gesture but he was still my husband and I would respect him.

"Meg, what are you doing in here?" he asked with unusual wariness that saddened me.

"Good morning, Erik," I said civilly. "I wish to inform you that I have decided to return to La Belle today."

He made no comment.

"The coach will be arriving in an hour."

"I went to the hotel to see Christine last night," Erik revealed after a long pause. I knew he would go to her but still, every word stabbed at my heart. "You did not tell her about us," he said.

I turned away from him and answered with a question of my own. "Why didn't _you_? She will never believe me anyway…"

Erik looked down and whispered, "I'm a coward and a sorry excuse for a husband…"

"What is wrong with me? Why have you never loved me?" I demanded suddenly, staring at him with utter wretchedness.

"Meg…"

I held up my hand. "No, don't say words you don't mean, just to make me feel better. I cannot bear it!"

He grew very still, staring at me like a man guilty of a crime. The silence between us stretched unnaturally.

"I have been a very foolish girl, wasting my time dreaming of impossible things. Something put into my head that you cared for me; and I lost my senses. I forgot everything but a wild dream of becoming your wife. But now, I'm finally awake from this life-long, stupid dream," I said wearily. "I can't fight it anymore. Let me return to La Belle alone. I think we need some time apart from each other…"

Erik was aghast but I refused to allow it to affect me. Our emotions were already wearing thin.

Having said what I had to say, I returned to the bedroom to put on my hat and gloves. Mrs. Farival, the housekeeper had arranged the baggage neatly by the door and then said, "Here's your ring, Madam… I found it under the bed."

I stared at it for a few seconds and held out my hand, took the wedding ring from her and slipped it back on my finger. Muttering mostly to myself, I said, "Oh, I thought I had lost it."

Mrs. Farival gave me a disapproving look. "The coach is waiting for you…"

"Thank you."

As the housekeeper went out, Erik came into the room and said quietly, "Meg, you know that I will never leave you…"

Sadly, I looked up at him. "Honor and duty dictates that you choose me because I am your wife. However, I cannot ask this of you because I would be asking you to give up what your heart wants most…"

As I moved towards the door, I suddenly felt Erik's hand on my arm.

"I will make this right, I promise."

_Yes, this was still a story without an ending,_ I thought ruefully.

"You'll have to think for us, for all of us now," I replied and walked away from Erik.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

I decided it was time for me to confirm what I had suspected all along. My monthly course was late and I had been feeling tired and irritable, not to mention the whole Christine debacle had alienated Erik from me at a time when I needed him most.

"Congratulations, Madam… You are into your second month of pregnancy," said Dr. Neville, after having examined me. "As long as you follow strict instructions, there should be no impediment to the birth… Madam?"

The good doctor was concerned that I displayed no reaction to the news. Yes, most couples would be rejoicing but I could not… Not yet, not until I was sure what Erik has decided. Would it be her or me?

I kept this knowledge a secret as I made my way to the Academy of Music – I was going to tell Christine that I was leaving and that I would not be able to make it for her opening night.

As I arrived at my destination, I noticed that Christine was having a heated argument with the stage director. "I will not sing if I'm not allowed to choose my own aria for the encore!" she threatened angrily.

"But Ms. Daae, the gala night is only a three days away! There's hardly any time to change the musical scores now…"

"Then you can find yourself another _Marguerite_!" Christine stormed off.

"Christine, wait!" the flabbergasted stage director tried to call her back.

Immediately, I followed Christine to her dressing room. "What's wrong, Christine?"

"Oh, that stupid old man!" she exclaimed. "He does not understand artistic freedom and creative genius! All he knows is boring, classical pieces… Meg, something wonderful has happened to me. I have found him! My Angel of Music! After all these years, he has finally come back to me! Erik says he is writing an aria and he wants me to sing it on gala night!"

"This is indeed a surprise. I'm happy that you have found him," I said as I tried not to betray the devastation in my voice. Erik would not miss this opportunity to hear her sing again.

Christine smiled. "Thank you, my dearest friend! I can't wait to sing on gala night, knowing that he'll be there. He alone can make my voice take flight…"

Suddenly, there was an anxious knock on the door. "Ms. Daae…"

It was the stage director and he wanted to speak with her urgently. Christine nodded at him coldly and proceeded with their discussion outside the dressing room. Meanwhile, I found myself staring at the lovely diamante studded gown hanging next to the dressing table. Christine would look beautiful in that dress, I thought.

When she returned, I said hastily, "Christine, I came to tell you that I will not be able to make it for your performance on Friday night. But I'm sure you'll do well …You have your Angel of Music again."

She blushed. "Well, that's true… I will still miss you, dear friend."

"Yes, well...Goodbye, Christine," I said hurriedly and made my way out of the opera house.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note: **A few more chapters to go!**  
**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

That evening at La Belle, Nadir and I ate dinner in complete silence. Every now and then, I would turn to see the door, hoping to see Erik walk in as he always did after work. With a sigh, I stared at my plate with a blank expression that let nothing slip through - no indication of all the tempests of emotions that was going through my mind.

"You're very quiet today. Something is on your mind," observed Nadir.

I looked up and let out a strangled sob. "Nadir, I'm pregnant …"

"That is wonderful news! Erik will be so glad to hear it…" he exclaimed. "What? Why are you crying?"

"Erik is going to leave me," I muttered in tears.

"My dear," he replied grimly. "Tell me what happened in Philadelphia…"

"She is here…"

Nadir looked up at me with surprise. "_Who_ is here?"

"Christine… Christine Daae," I said with a wretched sigh.

I felt this desperate need to confide in someone and my expression was enough to convince Nadir that I was distraught.

"The Countess d'Chagny? And how did you come to know this?"

"We were visiting the opera house in Philadelphia and she was there…After that, Erik and I had a terrible quarrel and… and I left…"

"Meg, my dear…I think it will take more than just a quarrel for him to leave you…Do you think so little of him?" Nadir said in a placating voice.

"It's not his mind that I'm worried about. It's his heart that I don't trust..."

Unable to continue this conversation, I excused myself and retired to the bedroom. I slipped in between the cold sheets of the bed that Erik and I shared. There were no more tears to shed. No matter how I cried, ranted or begged, I would never hear Erik's quiet footsteps leading to our room or his kisses or touch, having wanted to be in his arms forever.

I even tried to forget Erik, realizing the futility of holding on to something that was not mine. But the more I tried, the more I thought of him like an obsession; his being, his existence filling me with incomprehensible longing.

By the fireplace I sat, watching the embers flickering on the coals. I could imagine the beautiful Christine in her stunning gown, standing on stage, wowing the audience with her voice and Erik would be there. Tonight was the gala night and Erik and Christine would be reunited at last and my world would end. An overwhelming tiredness pressed me down and I could not move, frozen and unable to stop the tides that were going against me. I was a boat adrift in the vast ocean, my loneliness an impenetrable and inescapable as a shroud.

Even Sasha sensed that something was wrong and had decided to sit by my side, providing all the comfort she could give instead of bounding tiresomely around me or dropping her ball repeatedly at the side of my chair and wagging her tail.

"Meg… MEG!"

_Leave me alone…Let me go…_

"Meg, listen to me!" It was Nadir's voice, calling me out of my lethargy. "Meg, get up and get dressed!"

"Why?"

Nadir dropped a concert ticket on my lap as I stared at him in confusion. "You're going to the opera tonight…Meg, you were strong enough to cross the ocean to a new world…Strong enough to escape the Hashashin's attack…Strong enough to forge a new life with Erik. Aren't you strong enough to keep fighting for the man you love?"

"What's the use? He has always loved Christine and I was a fool to believe that he could… he could..."

The Tarot cards were right – I was the Fool, a fool in love. Wearily I said, "My strength is all used up."

"If you do nothing now, then all will be lost!" insisted Nadir, his passion sincere. "Meg, do it for your unborn child! Come with me now…Erik has asked for you."

"What?"

I was too dumbfounded by the turn of events.

"Yes, Erik sent me a note and he wants you to attend the gala opening night," confirmed Nadir.

"It doesn't make sense…"

"Damn your reasons and excuses, Meg! There is no time to waste…"

"Where are we going?" I asked as Nadir bundled me into the carriage.

We came to a small dressmaker's shop on Fabric Row, a working class neighborhood in Philadelphia. A lady with pretty brown hair and light blue eyes appeared. Her face lit up with a smile when she saw Nadir.

"Nadir! This is a surprise," she said. "And who is this?"

I knew Nadir had acquaintances in the city, but I had no idea he had been seeing someone. "This is Meg Giry," Nadir introduced me to the lady.

"I'm Mrs. Rose Connelly…You can call me Rose," she shook my hand firmly and ushered us into her shop.

"Rose, can you help dress her up like a queen for the night?"

Rose's eyes lit up. "When I'm done with her, she will definitely turn heads!"

Unable to prevent the tiny flicker of hope Nadir's words had ignited, I allowed Rose to select a gown for me. She found a royal blue velvet gown, with purple silk and satin layers with cream lace. The low neckline and short puffed sleeves accentuated the creaminess of my skin as Rose began the delicate process of sewing up the dress. From our short conversations, I gathered that she was a professional dressmaker and her services were sought after by Philadelphia's aristocracy. All her designs were copied from Paris' latest fashions – there was nothing she could not sew. The gown was initially made for a wealthy socialite, explained Rose. In the end, she did not like the color and decided to give it away.

"You are lucky that I have not found a buyer for this gown yet… It looked like it was made for you, Meg," she commented, standing back to admire her handiwork. "Now for your hair and makeup…"

Rose crimped my hair with hot irons and twisted it into the latest Parisian hairstyle, secured by glittering pins. Then she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out a simple strand of pearls. It was already late in the evening when I emerged from Rose's room looking stunning and resplendent. "Didn't I promise you a queen?"

Suddenly, I found myself staring at the mirror – the reflection was a woman transformed!

"Rose, you are marvelous!" exclaimed Nadir, pleased with the results. "Now, Meg… We've got to hurry. We might even make it by intermission time."

I turned to Rose and thanked her gratefully.

"Good luck, my dear," Rose wished us as we departed.

The carriage stopped in front of the glittering Academy of Music. Nadir pressed the ticket into my hand and helped me out of the carriage. "Everything depends on you now," he said grimly.

I took a deep breath… this was my moment, my battle cry as I stepped into the Academy.

The resplendent crowd, dressed to the nines mingled and chatted during intermission. Reporters and photographers rushed for last minute opportunities to interview the VIPs and their families. I moved through the auditorium in a daze, startled by the attention I was getting from the gentlemen. Blushing deeply, I made my way up the stairs to the first floor.

The usher showed me to an exclusive box seat and I had a clear unobstructed view of the stage from the balcony. I was scanning the crowd for Erik – he had to be here somewhere. Disappointed that I could not find him, I sat down and waited. The curtain opened for the second act of Faust. Christine was superb as Marguerite, singing exquisitely to an attentive audience. Nothing less could be expected of her.

At last the evening came to an end and Christine stepped out for the encore. There was a great burst of cheering and clapping then silence…

"You look beautiful tonight, Meg…"

A voice whispered into my ear and I knew immediately that Erik was here.

I turned around and there he was, standing in the dark corner, dressed in a formal opera suit. My breath was caught as I gasped. "Erik…"

He stepped forward and caught me as I nearly collapsed with the emotional strain of seeing him again. There were no words to describe how I felt at that moment.

"Meg," he murmured, holding me tight. "I'm so glad that you are here."

"I am too," I replied. "And I missed you..."

"I love you, Meg…"

"You… you love me?" I blinked, shaking with disbelief and awe. There was still a part of me that dared not to hope, as I grappled with his startling confession.

Erik nodded. "Yes, I love you, Meg Giry…"

Why now? Why here of all places?

I opened my mouth to question him but he hushed me with his hand. "We will talk later but I want you to hear this…"

The orchestra began to play Christine's cue and for a second, she seemed to falter then decisively, she stepped forward and began to sing, the notes all too familiar to me -

_Who knows when love begins_

_Who knows what makes it start…_

It was the song that Erik had written. Every nuance of her voice spoke of her love and devotion to the man who was my husband, every word like a dagger stabbing my heart as I squirmed in my seat. I couldn't bear to hear another word.

"Erik, I don't…"

"Christine sings the song that I wrote but it is not for her… It is for you…Listen!"

For me? I turned once more to the stage and I understood the words that Erik wanted me to hear.

_Love never dies_

_Love lives on…_

I fell quiet for a moment, letting everything sink in. I was just so unbelievably grateful, and overwhelmed by the sudden change of heart – Erik loved me!

As the song ended, Christine bowed and accepted the tumultuous applause, the rain of garlands, the shouts and whoops.

How strange it all was! I loved Erik still. And now having looked back upon the last few days of misunderstandings and of loneliness, I realized that I had never ceased to love him; that deep down in my heart I had always vaguely known and willfully shut it out for fear of further pain. Words eluded me as I fell into his arms, all my worries and fears had vanished.

He kissed me and wiped away the tears on my cheeks. "I missed you so much, Meg…I was afraid you would not forgive me…I know I have caused you grievous hurt and that you have every right to be angry with me. I was a fool to have neglected your feelings. I have given us a lot of thought and I realized that I love you, Meg and I don't want to lose you," he muttered brokenly. "I want to be the husband that you so richly deserve. Meg, I must know… I must know if there is a place in your heart to forgive me for what I have done."

"Oh, Erik…I forgive you," I said wholeheartedly. "Come back to me..."

He nodded and kissed my hand. "I will but first, I must go to Christine and tell her goodbye-"

Then, he led me through a secret stairway which led to the backstage of the Academy.

"Wait for me here," he said and walked down the narrow corridor to Christine's dressing room.

The backstage was filled with people buzzing with excitement over the opening night's success. The time waiting for Erik became a meaningless void, and anguished waiting. What was taking them so long? I grew uneasy and decided to find Erik. The door to Christine's dressing room was slightly ajar and I heard Erik's voice inside...

_Christine, I cannot be your Angel of Music anymore…_

_What? Is this a joke? Are you leaving me, for that... harlot? _

_Meg is my WIFE and I love her… Don't ever speak of her like that! _

_She lied and betrayed me! Oh Erik, I'm sorry... Did I not please you? Was I not good enough? I know I can do better…_

_I have decided not to go with you to New York… I'm going home to my wife. I'm sorry, Christine… We have both made our choices. I have tried to tell you many times…  
_

_No, this isn't real! You're my Angel of Music…You cannot leave me!_

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a clatter. Alarmed, I rushed into Christine's dressing room. The dressing room mirror was in pieces and a broken vase was on the floor. Christine was sobbing loudly, still in her resplendent gown and Erik was beside her.

"Erik, what happened here?" I asked worriedly.

Christine was surprised to see me, not altogether pleased. "How dare you show yourself in here!"

"I asked her to be here tonight," Erik said.

Christine blanched at his words as she glared hatefully at me. "How could you steal my angel? You're my best friend!"

There was nothing that I could say or do to repair the severed friendship. Christine would never forgive me. Suddenly, Christine's maid burst in on us, her face white with fear. "Ms. Daae! Ms. Daae!"

All of us froze.

In a daze, Christine turned to the frantic maid. "What's wrong, Amelie?"

"Gustave should be here! He's meant to be here! I went to the kitchen to get some water and he was gone…Gustave is missing!"

"No! This can't be happening..." And with a loud cry, Christine crumpled in shocked disbelief.

Erik quickly carried her and laid her down on the chaise seat.

"He has to be somewhere in this Academy… We'll just have to look for him," Erik said, taking charge of the situation as he barked to the maid. "Call the stage manager!"

Amelie scrambled out in search of the stage manager. I was about to turn away and leave when I felt his gentle hand on mine. "Meg, please stay. Gustave may need your help."

Erik was right. The boy should not be made a victim of our conflict and he could be in danger. "What do you want me to do?" I asked resignedly.

The stage manager arrived and quickly organized a search party. The men were split into groups to cover the entire building from the roof to the basement. Christine wanted to join in the search but Erik asked her to rest.

"Will you stay with me, Erik?" she asked fearfully, clinging to him for comfort.

"Yes, Christine…I will be here," he replied with calm assurance.

Christine needed Erik now – he was the only one she could trust. I should have felt angry, but I only felt sad. I wish I could hate her, but I couldn't.

Instead, I turned away and followed the search party. There were many rooms, stairs and corridors in the Academy. Everywhere we looked, we called out Gustave's name, hoping that he would answer us.

I realized I had made a wrong turn when I rounded the corner and my group was not there. The corridors were unusually quiet, even their voices could barely be heard. I came to a large door at the end of the corridor. This place felt like it was abandoned or unused in a long time. A slight push and the door slid open noisily.

_What was this place?_

I stared at the rickety stairs as my lamp illuminated the dark room. The place stank of decay and it was filled with large crates, possibly a prop room. Cringing with disgust, I was about to leave this dreadful place when I saw small footprints in the dust. My curiosity prompted me to climb down the stairs. Suddenly, I froze with shock.

At the bottom of the stairs was Gustave, looking very pale and still. Oh, God! He must have fallen down the stairs. I ran down and quickly checked his pulse, relieved that I found a faint heartbeat.

"Gustave, Gustave… can you hear me?" I asked anxiously.

A low moan came from him. I silently thanked God that he could hear me.

"Don't worry, Gustave… Help is coming! I promise …"

I ran up the stairs and shouted for help. "Somebody help me! I found the boy!"

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Christine burst through the doors ignoring me as she rushed to her son's side. Gustave had been rescued from the cellar and was now resting in one of the cast's quarters. Erik said nothing as he followed Christine. The stage manager was talking to a doctor in hushed tones. They stopped their conversation and looked at a very distraught Christine.

"Doctor, how is he? Is he badly hurt?" she demanded.

"The boy is fine. Just a few cuts and bruises… no broken bones," the doctor told them. "I've prescribed some medication for him."

Christine said gratefully, "Thank you, doctor."

As the doctor was leaving, the stage manager quietly took him aside and said, "I would appreciate it if you do not mention this incident to anyone. The press does not need to know about this." Then I saw him slip a few extra dollar notes into the doctor's pocket. The doctor nodded and left without a word.

I decided to wait outside and allowed Christine some privacy. The rest of the search party had gone home. What a night it had been! Gustave's disappearance had thrown all of us into confusion. After a while, Erik came out of the room and our eyes met.

"How is Gustave?" I asked, shaking away the nagging thoughts in my head.

"He's asleep and with his mother now," Erik replied tiredly.

I nodded with a sigh of relief. "It's late... I should go back."

From his breast-pocket, Erik took the key to his apartment and put it into my hand. "Take the keys to the apartment. Promise me that you'll be there when I return?"

Before I had the chance to respond to Erik, the door opened and Christine came out. "Erik –"

Then, she halted her steps, watching us warily.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Christine demanded.

"Christine, it was Meg who found your son –" said Erik.

Christine's eyes burned with anger. "Oh, spare me. Am I supposed to be grateful? She stole you from me! She lied and betrayed me! She could have deliberately planned this whole thing to hurt Gustave!"

"I did no such thing!" I cried in alarm.

"Gustave is _our_ son, Erik! She would do anything to keep us apart. Now is our chance to be a family…Erik, we need you. Don't let this woman come between us!"

_Gustave was Erik's son?_

Christine's words struck at my heart like an echo of doom. Erik was a lot calmer than I thought he would be as he turned to her and said in a menacing tone, "Do you have something to confess, Christine?"

Suddenly, Christine's anger was replaced by petrified fear as she backed away from Erik. "Gustave..."

With a swift move, Erik grabbed her arm and shook her hard. "I want the truth, right now!"

"All right!" Christine looked at him defiantly. "All those years ago, you went off and left me alone… but that's not all you did. You left me with a son! I wish, how I wish you'd have known! But I hid the secret from Raoul and Gustave. What else could I have done?"

Erik gazed towards Gustave's room in wonder. "A son…_my_ son…"

"Forgive me, Erik…I beg you," moaned Christine as he released her.

Erik swung to look at me as if in doubt - his face an excruciating look of shock and pain that I had ever seen. I watched him struggle to control his obvious anguish. He didn't have to say a word, it was all there in the eyes that couldn't quite meet mine. There was nothing left to say. At that point, my heart shattered into a million pieces as I staggered back.

"How… how can you think I'd hurt that child?" I stammered, protesting my innocence. If he could believe Christine's wild accusations then all was lost. Without waiting for an answer, I turned and walked out. Erik did not follow or even call me back.

I stumbled out of the Academy in the dead of night and found Nadir waiting for me in the coach. He saw the tears in my eyes and understood.

"I was hoping that this evening wouldn't end like this," he said gently.

"Oh, Nadir!" I flung myself into his arms and wept.

"To Rittenhouse Square, please," said Nadir to the driver.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

**Author's Note**: I was tired of the old Raoul vs Erik rivalry. It's so yesterday. I wanted to have Meg and Christine fighting for Erik instead. Wishing all my readers a Merry Christmas and happy holidays. I'll be posting another chapter next week. xoxo


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

I spent the better part of the journey in silence, staring out of the window and feeling the crisp cool air in my tear-stained face.

"What are you going to do now, Meg?" Nadir asked.

I turned to my dear old friend and replied, "I don't know…"

All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered tonight, making sleep impossible.

_Where are you, Erik?_ I thought sadly.

I thought I was the one who kept secrets from Christine. Apparently, she had some of her own. Gustave was her trump card. Erik would never leave her now. Everything that Erik and I had could be over and could never be set right again. How could I bear the long and dark days ahead? I lost my desire to live. Despondency descended upon me and never lifted, filling the gaping emptiness in my heart.

When I woke up the next day, something felt different but I could see nothing had changed – the bedroom was quiet and the ball gown I had worn the night before hung neatly on the chair. With a heavy sigh, I slipped out of bed and threw a shawl around my shoulders. Then, I heard a noise in the living room.

_Erik_… Could it be Erik?

My heart raced as I rushed into the living room. The last person I had expected to see after last night was Christine.

"What are you doing here, Christine?" I asked warily.

Christine was dressed in a lovely blue velvet gown, her hair neatly arranged under a hat but her eyes were cold. She cast a disdainful gaze at me.

"Ah, this place holds fond memories," she began, ignoring my question. "Erik and I spent many an afternoon and evenings in this very room alone as we went through the aria together…"

"Why are you here?" I repeated my question steadily. I had no wish to know what had happened between Erik and her in my absence.

"I came to inform you that Gustave regained consciousness last night and told us everything," she revealed. "I was wrong to accuse you of hurting my son."

"Really?" I said with a hollow stare.

"I came here to discuss about Erik," she added. "We are both adults now so we should discuss this matter reasonably."

I waited for her to continue.

"Do you actually believe that Erik would want to stay with you… in this dump when he could be traveling the world over and be famous?" Christine said scornfully. "Only someone with limited awareness could conceive such a notion. Are you incapable of understanding that Erik has, within himself, the potential to become one of the greatest – if not, the greatest composer this world has ever seen? A composer with the capacity to surpass Mozart, as the stars surpass the moon... His music has this innate ability to wrench emotional adulation from every theatre-goer and critic who will ever hear it. A power of expression that other composers can only worship… And you would have him lose all that to be with you?"

Shaking with rage, I walked to the fireplace, took hold of the high mantelpiece and steadied myself with it. If she were not my friend, I would have slapped her in the face! How dare she come here and say those things to me?

I was not blind – I was well aware of Erik's musical genius before I married him. I glared back at Christine and replied, "I'm so sorry for you – sorry to see that you don't know there could be happiness in a simple marriage. Erik and I could've been perfectly happy if you hadn't showed up. We could have been happy, for I loved him and I know him… You will never know him, never know what he thinks, never understand him any more than you understand music and opera!"

I stared at the flames as if I would understand what had happened to me. Why did I sound so pathetic and needy?

Unfazed, Christine declared, "I have invested all my heart and soul in him and you will not destroy that. Erik belongs to ME!"

Startled, I turned to Christine and demanded uneasily, "What do you mean?"

"We have a son, Gustave. Our bond is secure. Erik has indicated that he wants to get to know his son but he feels guilty about leaving you, so if you know what is good for him, you will let him go," said Christine coldly, the gauntlet cast. "Gustave and I will be leaving for New York City today…Erik will be going with us."

Has Erik made up his mind? Was he going to leave me?

"If you're saying that you've made him change his mind, that Erik must go away and leave me. Then I will wait for him to come and tell me so to my face," I said with a steadfast voice.

"Very well… we shall see who Erik chooses. Devil take the hindmost," said Christine confidently as she turned and walked out.

I sank down on one of the chairs, terrified and shaken. Christine's words echoed in my head – _"If you know what is good for him, you will let him go…"_

Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear the apartment door open.

"Meg?"

The voice that I thought I would never hear again sent a wave of shock and love through my heart. Erik made to walk to me and I lost all restraint. I ran to Erik as he came to me. Desperately, I leaned in and kissed him - a soft, delicate kiss. He responded passionately, and took me in his arms, just holding me close to him. I put my hand up to his face and pressed his cheek against my own with love and tenderness. He sought my lips again. Then he drew me down upon the sofa beside him and held my hand in both of his.

"Now you know," he said, "now you know what I have been missing since you left..."

"Then, why did you stay away for so long?"

I lay my head on his chest with his arms around me, surrounded by silence and content just to be with each other. "I'm sorry, Meg… I shouldn't have doubted …" Erik murmured. "I wish I could come sooner…I was up all night, walking around the town, trying to clear my thoughts..."

It was the least of my worries as I put my finger on his lips. "Oh, Erik…I thought you were never coming back!" I said quickly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Christine was here," I said in a defeated tone.

Erik looked at me with surprise. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to see me… She told me that she will be leaving for New York City and that you are going with her…"

He stood up and walked to the window, peering out to the street below.

"This madness has gone far enough," he decided. "It is wrong for all of us to continue this way. Gustave may be my son but he does not know me… I have no wish to impose myself into his life."

"So… you are not leaving?" I asked shakily, a little uncertain and a little tentative but hopeful as I went to him.

Erik nodded, turning to place his hands on my shoulders. "My life is with you now, Meg…"

I still had to be sure. "What about Christine and Gustave?"

"Christine is a strong woman. She has done well for herself and will continue to do well in her career without me. As for Gustave, he will grow up to become the next Comte d'Chagny. It is up to Christine to tell him the truth if she wants to. I will not hold it against her."

"I wonder if she forgives me—" I mumbled. In my mind, I pictured Christine pleading desperately for Erik to come with her, her eyes swollen from crying and mouth pouting prettily. I felt a little sorry for her.

"There is nothing to forgive," Erik insisted. "I fell in love with you, Meg… If she has a reason to hate anyone, then it should be me."

My fears and worries vanished as I hushed him with a kiss. "Erik…I thought I had lost you," I laughed through the tears of joy. "I love you so much! You are here now… That's all that matters."

"I love you too, my dearest Marguerite…"

Erik swept me off my feet and carried me to bed. Our lovemaking was passionate, intimate and convincing, an extraordinary release after days of loneliness apart from each other. The window was open and the wind was blowing gently in as night birds called in the background. We lay in each others arms, Erik's head to my breast as I stroked his wispy hair. With a sigh, he sat up on the side of the bed.

"What's wrong, Erik?"

"I have a son – a boy eight years of age. If I had known that Christine was pregnant, I could have done something then. Now it is too late."

If he had gone after Christine then, we would not have gotten together. We would not even be here today, I thought to myself.

He took hold of my hand, looking down for a moment at my fingers entwined in his.

"My own flesh and blood… My son is perfect! Not a spot, a blemish or disfigurement," he muttered. "Do you know what this means for us? We could have perfectly healthy, normal children…"

I gazed up at him and said, "Erik, there is something I have to tell you."

"You do want children with me, don't you?" Erik interjected, a frown appearing on his marred face.

"Yes, of course… Erik, what I meant to tell you is that I'm with child…"

Erik stared at me, eyes wide with amazement as he put his hand to my belly. The expression on his face was one of such wonder that I smiled.

"You mean I will have another son?" Erik said.

I gave a small shrug. "There is no way to be sure whether it will be a boy or girl until the baby is born."

"Meg, that is wonderful news! From out of ugliness, such light! From out of darkness, such a flame! In this child, my wrongness is made right…"

Each word was uttered with fierce intensity that I shuddered with delight as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me once more. "We will return to La Belle tomorrow," he told me.

I lifted my head and gazed lovingly at my husband, seeing a future that was brighter and clearer, and full of hope.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The next morning, Erik went out to make preparations to return to La Belle as I packed our belongings and informed the housekeeper. I couldn't wait to tell Nadir the good news and went straight to the apartment at the end of the hallway.

"Nadir? Are you there?" I called, knocking on the door.

There was no reply and the door was unlocked. I let myself in but Nadir was nowhere to be found. Then I heard a low moan coming from under the table.

"Nadir!" I cried out as I rushed to assist him. Nadir was badly beaten – there were cuts on his face and hands and there was blood everywhere. What had happened to him? Who could have done this to him?

"Meg, run! You must run…NOW!" Nadir rasped, pushing me away. In his weakened state, he whispered the name – _Hashashin…_

_Oh God! Oh God! They are here!_

The name sent chills down my spine, leaving me paralyzed with fear. Suddenly, the door slammed behind us and there stood a stranger with dark skin and deep piercing eyes. He held a pistol aimed at both of us. "If you value his life, you will not cry for help," the Oriental man said in clipped French.

My hands flew to my mouth at once.

"My name is Hasan, an old friend of Nadir's …It took me quite a while to find you, Mademoiselle Giry. Nadir was good but not good enough…He should know that no one escapes the Hashashins…"

"What do you want? What have you done with Nadir?" I asked with a trembling voice.

Hasan's eyes wandered from the top of my head to my feet as he murmured softly, "I'm here to collect a blood debt…"

I remained still for a moment. Erik had said that I would never be safe while the blood debt was not paid, a life for a life…Hasan had come to kill me. A dreadful clarity of vision showed me the cruel way that I was going to die in the hands of the assassins and how they would cleave my heart out for the shah's pleasure.

"So you are the woman that Prince Kasim died for," he noted in a bemused tone.

Bravely, I looked him in the eye and answered, "Yes, I am…I'm the one you want. I killed the prince. Prince Kasim was a coward and a murderer. He deserved to die for the crimes he had committed."

Nadir stared at me, unsure of whether I was delusional for speaking so bluntly. "No, Meg! Don't do this…"

Hasan made no comment as he nodded. "You are very brave to confess to a grievous crime such as murder, Mademoiselle…"

"Hasan, for the love of Allah…" pleaded Nadir.

"Enough of your groveling, Nadir!" Hasan growled. "The ways of the westerners has softened you, old friend. But I have a code which I live by and I will collect my blood debt today!"

_It cannot end like this! Not when Erik said he loved me!_

I was running out of options. Erik had gone out and he would not be back anytime soon. Nadir was injured. I closed my eyes, not daring to delude myself with any vain and futile hopes of seeing Erik again. This had to end. By the time Erik came back, I would be dead. At least, Erik will have Christine and their son. Knowing that he loved me was all I could ever hope for. The heart would not break when it has stopped beating. I just hoped that Erik will forgive me someday.

My whole body stiffened with great resolution as I looked up at Hasan and said, "I will go with you but please let Nadir go…He had nothing to do with this…"

Nadir's eyes widened with shock when he heard my request. "No, Meg!"

Hasan laughed as he grabbed my hand and roughly dragged me out of the apartment. Nadir tried to follow us but the excruciating pain kept him down.

"Where are you taking me?" I gasped, terrified.

"Don't worry, Mademoiselle… I promise that your death will be swift and painless!"

He brought me deep into the park to the other side of town, to a dark and deserted alley. I stared at the foul-smelling trash and rat-infested crates lined up against the wall and the sewer pipes leaking unto the cobble stones. The tall brick walls on both sides of the alley ensured that I had no means of escape. I was going to die here - there was no one who could help me now. Then a thought came to my mind. Perhaps, I could delay this inevitable outcome long enough for someone to pass by. It was a slim chance but nevertheless, it was worth a shot.

Bravely, I turned to face Hasan and saw him take out a dagger and place it next to a wooden box, which I presumed would contain my bleeding heart. I started to unbutton my dress - my hands were shaking as memories of that night with Prince Kasim came flooding back. A cold draft made me shiver.

"Perhaps, I should undress for you," I suggested, watching him closely as my fingers lingered at the base of my neck.

"Why would you do that?" he inquired, his eyes following where my fingers had been.

"You find me alluring, attractive… perhaps, you are a little curious as to why Prince Kasim wanted me so badly," I replied boldly, walking up to him.

"I do not mix business with pleasure…"

I stopped in front of Hasan. "It is a shame that this dress will be ruined… blood leaves such a nasty stain and this body will soon be cold…"

Hasan was intrigued. "What will you do for me?"

"Anything you want," I breathed, pressing my body to Hasan and using my guile to distract him.

"I forgot… You were the prince's whore," he said flatly.

Hasan's face betrayed no emotions as he remained impassive towards my sexual overtures. I began to wonder if he was interested in women when suddenly, his mouth slammed down on mine as he pushed me against the wall. Hands pawed at me, groping and tearing at the front of my dress. I felt a hard rod pressing against my thigh and gasped - it was the barrel of his pistol.

"Try anything stupid and I will kill you in that dress!" he growled into my ear.

Then, Hasan bent down to kiss my lips with such savagery as his hands ripped the bodice of my dress. He was shaking with lust and desire. The more I tried to resist him, the more it aroused him. My face streamed with tears of shame and loathing. Suddenly, he stopped and reached for his pistol, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

I screamed and tried to run from him but he caught my hand and drew me into his clutches. I struggled fruitlessly in his iron grip. Hasan's hand on my neck tightened as he held on to me.

"Come out from where you are or I will kill her!" Hasan shouted, using me as his shield.

"Stop!"

Hasan shuddered as the word echoed ominously in the deserted alley.

"Erik!" I cried, pushing against my captor as Erik appeared from behind the corner, a formidable figure in black.

"Leave her alone, Hasan," Erik said to him.

Swiftly, Hasan turned to Erik. "This is indeed a surprise, Erik. When my men told me they have seen you alive, I could not believe them. But in our world, nothing is impossible. Tell me, why are you here? Have you come to save this woman?"

If it was a rescue, it was certainly a poorly planned one. He was intrigued by the sudden intrusion and seemingly reckless attitude that Erik showed.

"I do not expect to come out alive from this," he told Hasan calmly. "I understand fully what a blood debt is…I will take her place. My life for hers..."

_What?_

"I can't ask you to die for me!" I said, horrified. "I can't!"

But Erik ignored me and spoke directly to Hasan. "I am worth more than just this scared little woman. The shah's edict is inconsequential. I have done many terrible things in your country and perhaps, it is time I paid for it with my own blood."

_No…no… no…_

The world seemed to stop spinning on its axis and time stood still as I gazed helplessly at Erik. If Hasan agreed to this exchange, this would be the last time that I ever would see him alive. It would be the last time that I would breathe the same air with him, or look upon the world or the stars of the blue sky. For tomorrow would be a never-ending night, without hope and without dreams as Erik's death would seize upon me like the tendrils of a web around my heart.

_Please... no..._

"How generous of you, Erik!" Hasan exclaimed with a harsh laugh. "Becoming the noble martyr, now are you? Clearly, I underestimate the determination of the importunate lover. You have feelings for her… Yes, Erik. You deserve a thousand deaths for what you have done in Persia. Our dear daroga has been sloppy but I will finish what he had started and help the both of you at the same time. Ah, don't look at me like that. I am a romantic too, you see. After this, your mortal bodies will no longer hold you ransom in this world, a place where no pain or sorrow will ever touch you again. I will kill you first, Erik and then I will kill her!"

Hasan aimed his pistol at Erik while he said to me, "Watch your lover die and know the fate that lies in store for you, woman!"

Then, it happened so fast. I turned my head and saw Christine running to Erik, gasping out with a mixture of fury and terror. "Erik!"

The pistol fires once, twice…Erik and Christine tumbled to the floor. There was blood splattered everywhere on their clothes. It was hard to tell who got shot. In the midst of the confusion, Nadir leaped out at Hasan with a dagger and stabbed Hasan with it. "Nobody calls me sloppy!" he snarled. Hasan's grip on me loosened as he crumpled to the floor, dead.

Erik got up and cradled Christine in his arms as I rushed to their side. The tragedy grew clear - it was Christine who took the bullet intended for Erik.

"I'm scared, Erik…" said Christine, through tears.

"Christine, no…"

"I could not stand there and watch you die," she replied weakly, the wound in her chest bleeding a pool of blood. "You came to say goodbye and I followed you from the train station…I couldn't let you go…"

"You're going to be all right… We'll take you to the hospital and the doctors will heal you," Erik sobbed.

Christine shook her head, knowing there was nothing Erik and I could do to save her. "I had your love once, Erik, a long time ago but not anymore… I've stolen you from someone else. I love you, Erik but you're not mine..."

"Christine…"

"You belong with Meg now. Erik… Meg… Promise me, please promise me that you'll take care of Gustave, when I'm dead," she gasped, her voice faltering. I was weeping silently.

"What am I to do? Gustave doesn't know who I am," lamented Erik.

"Just love… Just live… And give what you can give… And take the love that you deserve," Christine whispered as she reached for my hand and placed it in Erik's. I looked at Erik hesitantly and we stared at each other for a long moment before turning to Christine. "We will care for Gustave, as our own," I whispered.

"Thank you, Meg...I'm so sorry…Forgive me…"

I nodded as I held her cold hand. It was suddenly impossible to speak. Although Christine treated me badly, I did not wish her such a terrible fate.

Christine smiled, her face serene with the knowledge that her son would be safe. With the beatified look in her eyes, she whispered, "Goodbye, Erik… Meg…"

Erik kissed her one last time, overcome with emotion as she breathed her last. Then, he laid her body gently on the ground and looked across her lifeless form at me. I felt his pain, sorrow and fear for what was to come.

"We have to go now, Erik," said Nadir, breaking our thoughts.

Erik mumbled, "I cannot leave Christine… There are funeral arrangements to be made - she needs a Requiem…"

"Nadir is right," I insisted. "You cannot be seen here…"

I needn't tell him of the scandal he would cause by his very presence. Christine would not have wanted that. She deserved to be laid to rest with dignity.

"Yes, of course… We have to pick up Gustave from the train station," said Erik in a daze as he stood up wearily.

"Let me do it," I offered. Christine gave her life to save Erik and gave us a future - it was the least I could do for her now.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

**Author's Note**: I intended for Christine to redeem herself after all that she had done, conspired to break Erik and Meg apart. We're almost at the end, yay! Happy New Year!


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 - final chapter  
**

I refused to dwell on the tragic circumstances that brought us here this day as I washed off the blood stains from my hands and face. Apathy was keeping me in one piece as I changed my clothes with calm composure and made my way to the train station. There were things that needed to be done.

The train station was quiet – the hectic and fevered excitement of the passengers went with the last train to New York City. I had no problem finding Gustave. He was sitting alone on the bench with his luggage, checking his pocket watch worriedly. Suddenly, I realized how small and lost he was, how much he needed his mother. Christine was dead and I had to find a way to tell him the terrible news.

With quiet determination, I walked up to the boy. "Hello, Gustave…"

"Madame..."

"Do you remember me?" I asked, sitting down next to him. "I'm your mother's friend; Meg Giry…"

Gustave nodded. "Where is she? Have you seen my mother?"

With a heavy sigh, I said slowly, "Something has happened to your mother, Gustave… She…she…"

The hardest thing was deciding what I should tell him and what not to. Christine's death was all so sudden. Summoning my resolve, I said, "Gustave, your mother has gone away… and she wants you to stay with me for a while…"

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"In time, you will understand," I explained, holding out my hand to him. "You need to come with me now, please…"

He grew quiet and then lifted his clear blue eyes to me and said, "She is not coming back, is she?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat and shook my head. "No…"

Gustave hesitated for a moment as if he was deciding whether to trust me and then he reached out to put his hand in mine. I pulled him into a hug and together, we walked away from the train station. As we reached the safe house, Gustave instinctively recoiled when he saw Erik.

"Don't be afraid, Gustave," I said gently. "This is Erik…"

"Maman's Angel of Music," he replied with guarded recognition.

"Yes, well… He is more than that, Gustave. Erik is an architect, engineer and magician…"

Gustave's eyes lit up. "…a magician?"

"Erik wants to show you a few tricks. Would you like that?" I asked, turning to look at Erik with an unspoken plea. He was well aware how delicate the situation was with Christine's death. Now was not the time to reveal secrets that would further drive a wedge between father and son. Erik nodded slowly at my suggestion.

The boy looked to me and bravely went to his father. It was a start and perhaps, one day, Gustave would learn not to fear the mask anymore.

After the boy had gone to sleep, the tight rein I held on my emotions snapped and I sobbed hard, letting the tears fall freely. Physically and mentally, I was drained. My hands were cold and shaking so badly that the cup I was holding slipped and shattered on the floor. The piercing sound brought Erik running into the room.

"Meg, are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

There was no greater bliss on earth than being in his arms and being comforted by his kisses. But tonight, I was inconsolable. "Oh, Erik! It should have been me… All this should have ended with me!" I cried in despair.

"Don't say that," Erik responded passionately. "Don't even think that! Christine made her choice when she flung herself in the line of fire… You cannot blame yourself…"

I stared at him transfixed. "How many more must die before this nightmare ends? How many more?"

Erik was silent. "As many as it takes…" he answered gravely. "Sacrifices must be made…We will move from one town to the next even to the ends of this earth, whatever it takes to keep you and the children alive…"

How could I have been so naïve to believe that the threat on my life was over that somehow I could lead a normal life? I felt a premonitory dread – this incident proved that no matter where I went, they would find me and hound me till the day I die. But Erik had a choice – he could walk away from all this and take Gustave with him. Considering the enormous consequences, it would be foolish for him to stay…

"Do you regret marrying me, Erik?" I asked mournfully.

Erik gazed down at me with a sad frown. "No…never!"

Tears filled my eyes. "In the years to come, you'll pretend that it doesn't matter but it will… I can't bear knowing you will hate me for it!"

"I could never hate you… I love you, Meg," he whispered. "More than life itself…"

Then, Erik lifted my frail body and carried me to bed. As he lay down beside me, he said, "I remember many years ago, you said to me that you would thank heaven and all the saints if you had someone sing to you…Shall I sing for you?"

It seemed like a lifetime ago when I uttered those words and he remembered. Touched by his concern, I nodded.

_Once upon a another time,_

_I knew how our story would end...  
_

_We love, we live…_

_We give what we can give,_

_And take what little we deserve..._

Erik began to sing, softly at first and the haunting melody enveloped my senses, drawing my soul out of its misery. I heard his voice in my head calling me to strive for the dream, to feel alive again. My sobbing ceased and I grew quiet. When he stopped, I reacted with panic and clutched at his shirt, seeking the reassurance that only he could give. "Erik!"

"You will not be alone," he said more gently now. "I shall be with you… Trust me…"

He knew as I looked at him, that no song could make the difference as the darkness I feared would never be taken away.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The press went mad with news of Christine's death and by evening, it was on the front page of every newspaper. Some had speculated that she had been kidnapped and murdered; others said she was robbed, stabbed or a multitude of ridiculous theories. Moreover, her son, Gustave was mysteriously missing. The authorities began their investigation and contacted her only kin, Raoul d'Chagny.

In the meantime, Erik and I were desperately trying not to let the gossip get to Gustave. He was still too young to bear the reality of this burden. The boy seemed to be taking his mother's absence quite well as he seemed content in his own little world, absorbed in his drawings, books and music. Gustave was still wary of Erik - getting up hurriedly whenever Erik entered the room, unconsciously clutching the folds of my gown against his chest as though it were some kind of protection from his father. In a way, I admired the noble effort he was making to control his terror and the palpable relief in his eyes when Erik left the room.

"The boy trusts you," said Erik to me one evening.

"Gustave needs time to adjust especially with…with Christine gone," I murmured. "Give him time…"

Erik sighed as he gazed out the window. "The Comte will be arriving in Philadelphia soon," he said tightly. "I suppose he would want to know that Gustave is safe and well…"

I agreed. "After all, Raoul is the only father and only family that Gustave knows…"

Raoul arrived in Philadelphia ten days later. The authorities were happy to give every consideration to such an important man of society and released Christine's body to him out of courtesy and respect for his family. They had told him that Christine's death had been an accident and the gun that killed her was found on the dead man, presumed to be the kidnapper. As there had been no witnesses and no leads, they decided to close the case. As Erik knew where Raoul was staying, he had left a note in his hotel suite requesting him to meet at an appointed place.

From the window, I could see Raoul disembark from his carriage and slowly walk up to the stairs. Erik, Nadir and I had agreed that it was time he knew the truth and the police should be left out of the loop to preserve Christine's reputation. Taking a deep breath, I went to the door and opened it. His jaw dropped at the sight of me. "It cannot be!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, Raoul. Please come in…"

"Meg Giry, it has been a long time," he said with a sigh and walked in.

In the unforgiving sunlight, I could see that Raoul had aged a lot, streaks of white against brown and wrinkles around bloodshot eyes. He was dressed for mourning. Neither one of us could find the words to begin our conversation.

"I am sorry for your loss, Raoul," I began.

Raoul nodded his head sadly. "Christine was like a sister to you too… Since our wedding day, things just… went astray. My love was never enough for her… She always wanted more and I guess it has brought us to this…"

I bit my lower lip in hesitation. "Raoul, there is something you should know…"

"What is it?"

"Papa!" cried Gustave as he burst into the room and embraced Raoul. "Aunt Meg told me you were coming today…"

Raoul received his son in a daze. "Gustave, my son!"

"I'm glad you're here," Gustave replied with a big smile.

Then, Raoul gazed up at me, still shocked. "How did you find him?"

"It was Christine's wish that he lived with me…"

Raoul's eyes widened with disbelief and silence followed. Then, he turned to Gustave. "Would you go to your room to play while I speak with Mademoiselle Giry?" he said quietly.

Crestfallen, Gustave muttered, "Yes, Father…"

"Thank you, son. I will speak with you later… There are a few pressing details I need to settle with Mademoiselle Giry."

After Gustave departed, we stood in silence. "Lots of things have changed since we parted in Paris," he muttered sadly.

In the wake of resignation and new resolve, I replied, "Yes, indeed. Remember how it was? The Opera Populaire once upon a time? There were two little girls who lived there; one was a singer and the other a ballerina…"

"There was also a certain _Opera Ghost_," Erik added as he appeared before Raoul.

"You!" Raoul gasped, his look of aghast recognition was unmistakable. He gripped his cane as he demanded coldly, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Raoul, please… this is not what you think," I suggested nervously.

He looked at us with confusion.

"Erik is my husband… We were married when we came to America," I told him.

With a calm and dispassionate voice, I confided my past to Raoul. I did not spare myself and I did not spare him, he had to know – he had the right to know the circumstances of Christine's death. When I had finished my grim confession, Raoul grew very still, staring into the hearth. I even told him about Christine's last wish for Gustave.

Raoul was not particularly pleased with the prospect of having Gustave stay with us with my present perilous condition.

"Meg, I do hope we can come to a peaceful solution to all of this. I know what Christine told you but there is so much that needs to be addressed. In light of recent revelations, I'm asking that you leave Gustave with me," he spoke quickly seeing that I was about to protest. "You may even see him as often as you wish…"

"That is out of the question," said Erik grimly.

I stood up and protested, "Gustave stays with us…"

But Raoul was apoplectic. "I'm sorry…You tell me a story of these people who want you dead and yet you want Gustave with you!" he cried desperately. He had a valid point but it would not be what Christine had wanted.

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Erik decided.

"I don't want to lose my only son but if I don't stop you from making this fatal mistake, I will lose the right to call myself a man of honor," said Raoul as he stormed out of the room in anger. It seemed hopeless – there was nothing that I could say to make Raoul change his mind.

In a swift move, Erik grabbed Raoul's arm and slammed him against the wall roughly. "He is NOT your son, Raoul…If you try to get the authorities involved, you will never see Gustave again!" he hissed, glaring at his former rival. "We will take him away and you will never find him…"

"How dare you lay a hand on me!" Raoul shouted back.

The tension in the room was palpable as both men stared down each other.

"Gentlemen, please!" I pleaded for calm. "I'm sure there is a reasonable solution to all of this… We're here to honor Christine's last wishes. Her funeral is tomorrow and she will not rest in peace until we've done what she asked of us…"

With great reluctance, Erik let go of Raoul.

"Gustave may not be my son but he is my sole heir," Raoul said gravely. "I will allow him to stay with you for Christine's sake but on one condition – that he return to me at the age of majority."

"You will allow someone not of your blood to carry on the Chagny line?" said Erik incredulously.

"Does it surprise you that I love only Christine and do not wish to marry another? Why do you think I haven't divorced her all those years ago?"

Raoul's remark had stung Erik as he turned away in silence. I had thought it unfair that he should gloat in front of Erik, acting the high-born hero of this melodrama but perhaps, he really did love Christine and was holding out, hoping that she would return to him.

"This will be a secret between us. No one outside this room needs to know about Gustave's past. If you agree to my stipulation, I will not pursue this matter further," Raoul said. "Gustave stays with you…"

With a sigh, I nodded.

At the funeral, I went with slow, leaden-hearted dread to the elevated coffin. Candles burned on either side of the shiny mahogany casket. I gazed at Christine one final time, the waxen face revealed on the silk pillow preserved her beauty. I felt no anger as I looked down upon her – yes, I forgave her everything in that moment. Erik was somewhere around, lingering in the shadows of the chapel and staying away from the crowds who came in to pay their last respects. He had said little about Christine's tragic death and I was too caught up with my own problems to ask.

After the service was over, I returned to the safe house and overheard the melancholy strains of the violin coming from the rooftop. Slowly, I climbed up the stairs and found Erik - his face was white and tragic but the eyes that rested on mine was red from tears. Stretching out my hand, I pulled him into a hug and allowed him to grieve. I did not speak or move but concentrated on pouring all my strength and comfort into Erik, just as he did for me.

Raoul spent a few more days in Philadelphia with Gustave until he returned to France. The boy was devastated with his departure but bore it like a brave little man he was. I assured him that he would see his father again and he seemed comforted by the promise. Gustave had always treated me with kindness and respect as he would to an aunt or an older relative and never caused me any worry or pain. One day, I would have to tell him about Christine's death and I hope that he would find it in his heart to forgive me for keeping this a secret.

In the meantime, Erik had made arrangements for all of us to move south, to a place called New Orleans.

"It has quite a large French speaking community there," Erik told me.

My eyes lit up. I had longed to hear the soft, familiar lilt of my native language again – its seductive vowels and lovely, rolling consonants. How good it was to be able to hear French spoken everywhere.

"Yes, let us go there," I echoed enthusiastically.

It would be a new beginning for us and our unborn child. Our home, La Belle was given to Nadir's friend, Rose so she could use it to start her own business. She was shocked and unprepared for this unprecedented generosity. "I promise I will keep it in good condition until you return one day," she said, shaking my hand fervently.

I prepared a sumptuous dinner of roast meats, fish and salad on our last day at La Belle. All of us ate silently, savoring the moment when Erik stood up and looked at each one of us, lingering a little longer on Gustave who was picking at the tiny bones from the fish on his plate. The boy did not have the faintest suspicion that anything was wrong.

"I want to thank my lovely wife for making this delicious meal and I'm happy to have all of you here, friends and family this evening," Erik began. "Although we did not have a chance to stay for long here, La Belle has many fond memories… "

Yes, this place certainly held many memories for me as I reached out to hold Erik's hand. He turned to me and smiled. "And perhaps, one day we will return for good…"

Erik's words landed with effect as tears started to well in my eyes. Bravely, I smiled and wiped them away as Erik sat down and drew me into a hug.

"I'll drink to that!" said Nadir as he lifted his goblet.

Now, Gustave looked up and asked, "Are we going somewhere, Aunt Meg?"

I turned to the boy and replied with veiled nonchalance, "Yes, we are going for a trip to the American South... I'm sure there will be lots of new things to see!"

Gustave's face lit up. "Please, I'd like to see more of this country!" he exclaimed with delight.

"You will, _son_," said Erik somberly.

We tried to return to our food but the mood for merriment was just not there. The next day, we boarded the steamship, the Atlantic Queen and set sail for New Orleans.

...ooo...ooo...ooo...ooo...

**Author's Note**: A note of apology to all readers for not updating sooner. I have just returned from a hectic Christmas holiday and now, I'm writing again. *sigh* The story ends here but stay tuned for the epilogue. Please, please review! xoxo


	27. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The days, golden as sunbeams, slid into weeks and months, and winter gave way to spring. I often come to sit alone in the backyard garden now, breathing the heady scent of roses and rolling my wedding ring back and forth between my withered and twisted fingers. I remember the loving care that Erik lavished upon these flowers. _Ah, Erik…_

The constriction in my chest is unbearable at the thought of my love. Unwanted tears blur my vision as I wipe them away impatiently. I'm too old for this.

Memories are all that I have now in my old age, like fireflies darting across the surface of my mind, showing me here and there images so sharp and vivid that I catch my breath in wonder before the vignette disappears. Sometimes, I find myself drifting into another world, the falling of a soft gauze curtain which obscures the dividing line between fact and fantasy.

Gustave says that I am losing my faculties and that I should not live alone but I cannot bear to leave this house that has been my home since I returned to France. I hope he is wrong, bless him! I would like to think that I am as sane as anyone else.

At the age of thirty-eight, Gustave is an accomplished concert pianist. Already in France, they are hailing him as a genius and a handsome one at that! Christine and Erik would have been proud of him. Music is in his soul, extending to every fiber of his being each time he plays the piano. Women crowd to his recitals, embarrassing him with their fulsome praise and flirtatious looks, much to his chagrin. He never married despite being one of the country's most eligible bachelors.

"Music is my first love," he once declared to me and I never brought up the subject of marriage again. Perhaps the shock and horror of finding out that Erik is his real father kept him from starting a family of his own. Whatever his reasons may be, he never told me.

A hand on my shoulder jolts me out of my reverie.

"_Bon jour_, Maman! I thought I would find you here…"

I turn to look up and smile at the sight of this lovely girl who is my first-born, Julia as she swoops down to kiss me. Now happily married to a successful lawyer, Julia is a picture of bygone heroine of romance and the fair lady of our dreams. There is nothing subtle or hidden about her charms; her beauty is all there, flaming and apparent: the spun-gold hair that comb nor confining pin could restrain; the blue eyes that are sapphires; two lips that pouted, so red one can only think of cherries in looking at them. She is growing a little stout, but it does not seem to detract an iota from the grace of every step, pose or gesture.

"I like it here… It is… peaceful," I reply wryly. Julia told me earlier that she would be coming over to visit me but I guess I must have forgotten the time.

"Etienne and Celestine are missing their grandmother so I thought I will take you to Nice for a few days," she says, sliding gracefully into the garden chair beside me. "I know you're a little weary for travel but I promise it will be worth it…besides, the sun will be good for you…"

Wincing at the thought of the long ride, I suddenly remember my appointment with Raoul tomorrow – there will be a public auction at the new and refurbished _L'Opera Garnier_ and he wants to meet me.

"I promised to see the Comte d'Chagny in Paris tomorrow," I tell her.

Julia's eyebrows rise in a faintly puzzled frown. "I suppose I could wait a day or two for you to sort out your schedule."

"Thank you, dear."

She waits with quite patience while I collect myself in slow degrees and prepare to go inside – the wind outside is getting too chilly for my bones.

The little house that I live stands behind a locked gate, and a shallow ornamental garden that is somewhat neglected. There is a small front porch, upon which a long window and the front door opened.

Julia leaves a lamp burning low upon the table. During the time that she stayed with me before her wedding, she had succeeded in making the house look habitable and homelike. There are some books on the table and a lounge near at hand. On the floor is a fresh matting, covered with a rug or two; and on the walls hung a few tasteful pictures – all of Julia's doing. My bedroom is adjoining, and across a small passage are the dining-room and kitchen.

As I return to my room to lie down, I remember quite clearly the dark stormy night in New Orleans, the night Julia was born…

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Rain pelted madly on the roof and thunder crashed overhead. It had been a difficult birth, the quadroon midwife was speaking loudly. "Do exactly as I say, Madame…The baby is coming any moment now!"

I nodded and drew a panting breath, clinging to the sheets in the mindless delirium of pain. There was a great bursting, tearing sensation and then peace…and a loud boisterous cry of a baby.

"It's a girl, Madame," said the midwife proudly as I opened my eyes. She cut the cord with a pair of sterilized scissors, wrapped the tiny being in a blanket and passed the muffled bundle in my arms. Struggling to sit up against the damp pillow, I looked down at my baby and my heart warmed with happiness.

So totally engrossed with my little baby that I did not notice Erik had entered the room after the midwife had gone. I was stroking my daughter's arm and staring at her face.

"Meg darling, how are you?"

I looked up at my anxious husband and smiled. "I'm a little weak but other than that, I actually feel quite well!"

Erik was nervous as he stepped up to look at the baby sleeping in my arms.

"...and is she strong and healthy?"

I nodded. "She is perfect, Erik…"

There was an audible sigh of relief from Erik as I allowed him to carry her.

"She is her mother's likeness," said Erik as he looked down upon the child in his arms in wonderment. Then he gently kissed the baby's head, whispering to her, smelling her hair, her skin, her face and breathing her in. There was no rejection, only total acceptance as Julia stretched out one hand to grope uncertainly toward Erik. I saw a tear roll down his cheek.

It was exciting and a challenge to manage such a young family and moving from town to town. We were grateful that our nomadic lifestyle brought some measure of peace to our lives. Erik loved his children and I regretted not being able to give him more. When Julia was six years old, we settled down in a small town in Panama – there, a huge construction project linking the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans was in progress and they needed engineers. With his credentials, Erik had no problem finding work.

One day, Erik returned home with unexpected news.

"The Shah of Persia is dead," he told me.

_Dead_ - I listened incredulously, too stunned to comprehend the impact on our lives. The shah's edict died together with him.

Erik pulled me into a relieved hug, as tears of joy spilled down my cheeks. I had hoped and prayed that someday, we could finally return to France. It was now a reality as the threat on my life was over. In the summer of 1900, we arrived in Paris during the great world fair, the _Exposition Universelle_. The city of Paris itself had changed so much - towering monuments, a metro system and noisy vehicles greeted us. The romantic old city which I grew up in was gone, swept away in the name of progress.

It was also a memorable year for us as I was pregnant again after two unfortunate miscarriages, our child conceived during our voyage home. We settled in our current home and prepared for the birth of our second child.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

My hand instinctively reached for the locket hanging around my neck – its contents was all I have left to remind me of those tragic years that altered my world forever.

My baby… _Stefan_…

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

My little boy was so tiny and fragile with his little stick arms and legs, his skin a bluish tinge, born six weeks before his time. It was then that I realized Erik's dread – Stefan was the splitting image of his father; sunken mismatched eyes, grossly malformed lips and a gaping hole where the nose should have been. The terrified midwife told us that the baby didn't look very strong and that it would probably survive at most a few weeks. We were devastated and watched helplessly as the priest baptized the child.

"Stefan, his name is… Stefan," I murmured in tears, leaning against Erik for support. How could this happen to us? My mind could not find the answer…

"He's so small," remarked Julia as she looked down at her little brother one morning.

"You've been that small yourself," retorted Gustave, standing next to her.

"Not that small. Have I, Maman?" Julia turned to me.

I smiled despite my pain. "You have, darling. You've all been small once…"

"See, I told you," Gustave said proudly.

The children loved the baby although their visits were limited. Erik and I hadn't the heart to tell them that little Stefan was not going to be with us for long. Ten days later, I received the worst news of my life. I was watching the older children playing in the garden, the doctor approached me apprehensively and said, "Madame, it is time..."

Rushing into the nursery, I picked up Stefan and cradled him to my breast, feeling his shallow breaths, willing him to live but it was not meant to be. _My baby…_

Putting Stefan back into his cradle, I took a pair of scissors and with trembling hands, snipped a lock of hair from my baby and put it in a delicate silver locket. I wanted to remember my little boy... Erik and Nadir rushed into the room when they heard the news and stopped abruptly at the pitiful sight before them.

Looking up, I saw Erik, saw his eyes, saw the new lines around his mouth and realized that the loss of the baby was not mine alone. "Oh God, Erik," I sobbed, and pitched forwards.

Erik caught and held me. "Meg," he whispered into my hair.

"How could we lose him? I don't think I can bear it…"

"You will learn to bear it… for Gustave, for Julia…Remember the children! They still need you," said Nadir with his infinite wisdom.

Slowly I sat back in my chair and watched with shocked grief as Erik and Nadir wrapped the child in a blanket and took him away. That night, I did not sleep as I rolled the locket of Stefan's hair back and forth between my fingers, waiting for Erik's return. Erik had taken the child to be buried in a nearby church cemetery. He came back with mud and soil all over his shirt and trousers. "It is done," he said brokenly and wept…

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Yes, I have learned to bear the loss of my son just as Nadir said I would for thirty years. I miss my dear old friend. Nadir passed away last year after a bout of illness. He never re-married and was contented to be a bachelor till his dying day.

In a distance, a cock crows, indicating a new dawn. With a sigh, I slowly get up from my bed after another sleepless night and prepare to leave for the city. Julia offers to accompany me but I shake my head.

"Raoul and I will bore you with our conversations," I tell her kindly, withholding the fact that I prefer to be alone for a while.

More memories assail me as my carriage halts in front of the opera house. I haven't been back to Paris in a long time, not since… I shiver not from cold but from the pain that is gripping my heart as I slowly walk up the steps to the event hall.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

Erik was as strong as an ox and rarely fell ill. I could count the times he was ill with one hand when we were together. Stefan's death had greatly affected him and I don't think he ever got over it. Within a few weeks after burying Stefan, he succumbed to a heart attack and never recovered.

"You will get well, Erik," I said encouragingly as I fed him his medication dutifully. I could not lose my husband so soon after my baby.

"I'm too old to get well," he answered, chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.

"You cannot give up now!" I cried in panic, "I will call Doctor Binet now… He will help you."

Erik clutched my sleeve, his eyes dark pits of fear. "No… Stay…"

"I won't be long. Just a few minutes…"

"Meg, you can't save me… Doctor Binet can't save me!" he rasped.

My eyes glistened as a tear trickled. Erik's fingers touched the tear, traced its passage down my cheek.

"Let me go…"

Unable to speak, I held his hand, remembering their smooth, gentle warmth, their ability to please, love and hurt.

"Hold me, Meg…"

I nodded and climbed into bed beside him. I wrapped my arms around Erik, cradling him, making his strangled fight for breath become mine.

"Promise me, Meg… that when I die, you will bury me next to Stefan…"

"Oh, Erik!" I began to weep.

"It will be all right… You know I love you, Meg."

"I love you too…"

Erik slipped away sometime in the middle of the night and when I awoke in the morning, he was dead. It was worse that then death of my baby, Stefan. I had lost someone who was worth more than life itself to me. When Stefan died, my heart was broken. But now that Erik was gone, I wanted nothing more than my heart to cease beating.

…ooo…ooo…ooo…ooo…

The sound of the auctioneer's gavel interrupts my thoughts as I look up at the people who are there and the various items on sale. I did not recognize anyone familiar and Raoul, as usual, is late. I don't have to tell him it is extremely rude for a gentleman to keep a lady waiting - bouts of alcoholism and excessive smoking had eroded his health and confined him to a wheelchair. A few minutes later, Raoul arrives with his personal driver and nurse. We exchange greetings and turn our attention to the auction block.

The reason for Raoul's presence is a music box which once belonged to Erik. I'm surprised by its appearance after all those years. I thought it had been destroyed by the mob. Raoul outbid me for the item and I let him as I know the reason he bought it. It is for Christine and Raoul does not want anyone else to have it.

Next, is a chandelier in pieces…

I have no interest in re-living the horror that Erik had created and turn to leave.

"Meg, wait!" Raoul's voice stops me. "Would you like to join me for some tea?" he asks cheerfully.

"Thank you," I reply. "It will be my pleasure…"

We sit in a posh salon, drinking tea and eating cakes like old friends, each enquiring about the children and reminiscing the old days.

Raoul studies the music box closely. "A collector's piece indeed, every detail exactly as she said… Christine often spoke of the music box, the velvet lining and figurine of lead…" he murmurs and turns to me. "I am going to visit Christine today. Would you like to come?"

I have been to the grand mausoleum that Raoul had erected for his beloved wife but today is not the day. I politely decline and thank him for the invitation. There is another place I wanted to go…

The gates leading to the cemetery creaks as I open them. It has been a while since I stepped foot into the cemetery grounds and look upon the gravestones of Stefan and Erik. In a mix of anger and sadness, I push away the vines already covering the stones and touch the inscription reverently, blinking back tears. Exhausted, I sink unto the grass.

"Hello Erik, I know I haven't been here for quite a while," I murmur and begin to tell him about Gustave, Julia and the grandchildren.

"Everyone else seems to be moving on, everyone but me…

_Si tu savais…_

Time seems to have gone on without you, and I'm still stuck here. I feel sick, Erik. Sick and tired. I sometimes just want to go to sleep, and I dream that I'm in your arms again, that nothing else matters, that you weren't taken by the harsh realities of this world… that we would have many more years together…

Don't be angry with me. I remember what you told me, and I won't break my promise to you. I'll keep on going, even if it kills me to see another sunrise without you.

I think I have to go now. The driver's getting a bit annoyed. I'll be back soon, I promise and Erik?

I love you. I won't ever stop…"

Wiping away my tears, I get up with a sigh and leave. Upon my return, I tell Julia that I wish to remain here and postpone my trip to Nice. Julia is a little concerned about my erratic behavior but I assure her it is nothing. "Go back to Nice and give my love to the grandchildren for me," I say.

Julia leaves the next morning and I am alone once more as I tell the maid to take the day off.

The covers are pulled protectively up around me but I am restless, tossing in a light, uneasy sleep.

Suddenly, a slight breeze moves across the room as I awaken. Slowly, I sit up and said, "It's you, isn't it? You've come to kill me…"

From the shadows, a heavily accented voice answers, "Yes…"

Tears begin to streak my face as the figure floats on the edge of the room's shadows, a dark angel.

"Are you afraid?"

I shake my head. "No, no. I thought I would be, but I'm not. I'm – relieved."

With a shuddering sigh, I look at the masked intruder and say with a sob, "Oh God, all these years, I thought it was over… All this waiting... and somehow I always knew you'd come back. You are going to kill me now?"

"Yes."

"Is there any pain?" I ask, a little nervous.

"No. No pain…"

Nodding my head, I lie back on the pillow and a curious calm descends upon me as my vision blurs and my whole body growing limp. In my dreams the stage at the Opera Populaire comes alive again, the sweeping orchestral music, Maman and my beloved Erik... it is beautiful!

**THE END**

**Author's Note**: To all my loyal readers who have followed this story, thank you! I've always wanted to write a Phantom of the Opera fanfic and it took me almost a year to complete it after settling on a plot that satisfied my over-imaginative mind. I've received many favorite story alerts and it is indeed encouraging. Please, please review and let me know what you think of the story. xoxo


End file.
